coming home
by skiing Pelican
Summary: Season 8 coda, be aware of spoilers! Dad suddenly comes back! As if the Winchester's lifes weren't complicated enough already. Sam needs to get better, Cas needs to learn how to be human, and now they also have to deal with him. Don't get them wrong, they love their dad - but John does have this effect on people. Set a few weeks after sacrifice.
1. Chapter 1

There were still a lot of things that Sam and Dean still didn't know about their father. Like the little fact that he used to pray. First, it was only about honoring the memory of Mary. "They are watching us over us," she used to say. He felt closer to her that way. But the habit caught on. John was never the kind of guy who prayed before meals. But he did pray on occasion, to whichever higher force was up there to look out for his boys.

"I still can't belive it." Dean said. The boy really had an expressive face, and right now there were thousands of emotions passing over it.

"Me neither. But I'm here, in the flesh," he said with warmth in his gruff voice.

Dean just stared at him for a moment, seizing him up. He couldn't blame the boy. He had been gone for years. And now he was back and couldn't even give an explanation. It was easier to believe that he was just another fucker messing with them, than deal with with all the emotions. He couldn't really believe it yet himself. So many years have passed... Dean looked so much older now.

"Yeah well, no point standing around on the porch." John said.

"Yeah, yeah... come in." Dean went down to the little hidden door. He turned back to his dad with a grin as he put his hand on the handle. "You're not gonna believe this. We have a batcave!"

John shrugged and motioned to Dean to open up already.

"What's this?" he asked gruffly as he set his first foot into the library. His eyes were immediately travelling around, checking the place for signs of protection or threats.

"It's the layer of a secret group called men of letters. Pretty awesome huh? They're all dead, so now we get to hang out here."

"How did you find it?" John asked.

Dean opened his mouth with a grin to boast of their story, but he stopped short and just said "I'll tell you later, okay?"

John just nodded and trotted after Dean. "Where's Sam?" he asked. "You said he'd be here."

"Yeah, he's probably just taking a beauty sleep. Sam? SAM! Look what the cat dragged in!"

Out of one of the hallways came Sam, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He looked like he had fallen asleep on a pile of books again and his floppy hair was hanging in weird angled over his eyes.

"What's up Dean?" he murmured. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes registered who was with Dean. His hands went up to swipe the hair out of his face to see properly.

"Dean... is that really...?"

"Yeah Sammy. I checked."

"But how? And why?"

"I don't know, boy." John said and moved forward, opening his arms for a hug. Sam practically flew into his arms and hugged him for dear life.

"Oh man, I thought I'd never see you again!" Sam said with a shaky voice. Tears started to stream from his eyes, and Dean's eyes also got a little wet (again) from witnessing the reunion.

John clapped twice on Sam's shoulders as they broke apart again. "You're still as tall as I remember you to be." John said as affectionate as was possible with his gruff voice. Then he turned to Dean again.

"Is there any place in this bunker I can sleep? I'm beat."

"Yeah, sure. Plenty." Dean replied. "Come on."

John followed Dean down the hall and was put into one of the many spare bedrooms they had. Dean came back shortly after.

"So... what do you think?" Sam asked almost immediately. "How... can he be here? After all these years? I mean, we've seen him gone to heaven."

"Actually, we haven't." Dean replied. "We've seen him get outta hell, but I've got no idea where he went. Remember Ash said he couldn't find him up there?"

"Yeah. So you think he just stayed... as a ghost... and found a means to come back?"

"Maybe? I dunno, Sam. I've got Jack Squat. But fact is, he's back. And if whatever brought him back is a bad mofo, we deal with it."

"Yeah." Sam said thoughtfully. "Yeah. We'll have to deal with it. And him."

Dean fixed him with a look, but didn't protest.

* * *

When John got up, neither of the boys were awake yet. That wasn't to surprising, considering he'd always been an early riser. But what surprised him was the other person he caught sitting in the kitchen with coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He hadn't expected to find any other people with his boys.

John strode in with a hand on his gun and stopped right in front of the guy.

"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly.

A blue pair of eyes lifted reluctantly from the newspaper up to meet Johns eyes.

"Castiel," he said with a voice that was probably even deeper and scruffier than Johns own voice, before returning his attention to the newspaper.

"That doesn't answer my question." John pressed.

Castiel took a sip from his coffee, gaze still fixed on the paper as he said: "There's no need to shoot me. I'm a friend of your sons."

"I don't know you, so I don't trust you." John replied. "You a hunter?"

Castiel looked up as if he had to ponder the question.

"Yes... I am now, I think."

"You think?" John repeated skeptically. He sat down right across from Cas and laid the gun on the table in front of him. "How do you know my boys?"

Castiel finally leaned forward and fixed his eyes on him, and he did so with a stare that would make a lesser man bulge. "I'm the one who gripped Dean tight and raised him from Predition."

John laid a finger on the trigger of his gun.

"You don't wanna mess with me, Castiel" he said deeply.

"I see you guys are hitting it off pretty good." Dean announced cheerfully as he strode in. "Wow. I don't wanna get caught on your battlefield."

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said, still not breaking eye contact with John.

Dean went over to the coffee pot and poured himself some. "Cas, I'm telling you dude, you need to learn how to blink. I'm serious."

That was enough to shift Cas' attention to Dean. "I do blink," he said, and blinked for emphasis.

"Dean, who is this guy?" John asked.

"He's a friend, dad. Please ease off of him."

"Can we trust him?" John continued to ask, still scrutinizing Cas.

Dean thought for a moment before answering. Yeah, they've had their shakedowns lately... but when push came to shove? Besides, he really didn't want to see Cas on his dad's bad side. That would be plain dumb.

"He's saved my life more often than I can count, and Sammy's too. So I'd say that's a yes."

"But he's not a hunter." John prodded.

"Yeah well, maybe not exactly. He's a geek. Knows all kinds of stuff. Really, he's worse than Sammy. But a real badass geek, with ninja speed and his own blade," Dean explained, getting more and more affectionate as he moved on through the speech.

Cas took out his angel blade and looked at it mourningly.

"Can I see it?" John asked and stretched his hand out toward it.

"No." Castiel replied. "I don't know you, I don't trust you."

Dean held his breath, because his dad didn't take shit like that from nobody. Cas and John were locked in another staredown. "Fair enough." John said. And everything in those two words rang loud and clear that this wasn't the end of it. Cas returned to his newspaper, John stood up and inspected the kitchen, and everything fell into awkward silence.

"Why would a cat hate Mondays?" Cas asked after a while.

"It's just a friggin' comic, Cas." Dean snapped, angry because Cas gave away just how different he was with such a stupid line. John fixed him with a look, before looking up to Dean with one of those meaningful glances. We gotta talk, boy.

John went out of the kitchen with Dean tailing after him. It was weird how old instinct kicked back in and he automatically understood the silent commands of his dad. They went a couple of rooms further for good measure.

"What's up with him? And don't even try to tell me there's nothing." John demanded.

"Well... That with Cas and me, that's kinda a long story." Dean replied evasively.

"Is he human?" John asked.

"Yeah, sure. He's human." Dean replied.

"What else, then?"

Dean chuckled humorlessly. "You're not gonna believe this..."

"Dean."

Dean flinched, but just a little. He wasn't sure if his dad had caught it. Probably had.

"Well... he wasn't always human."

"I'm waiting."

"He's a fallen Angel, dad. He's one of the good guys, I swear."

Dean glanced up to see the reaction of his dad's face. John's face was cold as stone.

"I guess Mary was right then. There are angels watching over us." he joked humorlessly.

"Not exactly. They're dicks. Well, all except Cas."

"Okay then." John said. "I'm going to trust you on this. But you better not be wrong."

Dean sighed as if a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"But you know, son - if he makes one wrong move, he's meat." John said as he walked back.

* * *

**A/N**

Thanks for reading. I don't know yet if I'm going to continue this. I think the premise of how Dean and Sam would deal with their dad after all this years is really interesting, but I'm feeling uncomfortable writing John. For some reason, I keep hearing Bobby. So review if you like it and tell me what you think! It might just be motivating enough to continue writing.


	2. Chapter 2

It was surprising how easy you fall back into old patterns when confronted with a certain person of your past. It doesn't matter how much you've changed since then, you'll always fall back into old patterns. That's how Dean spent more time justifying his actions and looking for his dad's approval than actually retelling what happened in all those years, and just the same way Sam found himself picking a fight with John more often than not. Sure enough, their dad hadn't changed. In a strange way, that was comforting. But at the same time, it was really annoying.

But although it feels to you as if you are stuck in all those patterns that you thought to have shrugged of long ago, the other person still sees how much you've changed.

"I'm going out for groceries." Dean announced, taking a glance at his list. "You need something, dad?" he added, just a little too anxious. Dean. Always the faithful son.

"No, I'm fine Dean." John said with a smile, looking up from the book he had been reading.

"I'll come with you." Cas said and grabbed his old trenchcoat. Secretly, Dean was glad that Cas still wore the old thing. He didn't want Cas to change too much after his fall. He couldn't bear it.

John's eyes travelled after Cas briefly, watching him. He still didn't trust Cas one bit. Sam noticed.

"Hey Dad", he said. "You gonna stay with us now, like, the whole time?"

"I guess so." John replied.

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" Sam asked. And there. He did it again.

John closed the book in front of him with a huff. "You know I had to do what I had to do."

"Yeah" Sam replied slowly. "Sorry. I guess old habits die hard."

"You're okay now, Sam?" John asked.

"Yeah, sure." Sam replied, looking up surprised.

"No premonitions or other weird powers?" he asked.

"No!" Sam exclaimed, a little nervously. They didn't tell John about the demon blood incident. "It all was gone after Azazel died."

"Azazel. I always hunted that bastard and never knew his name."

Sam stayed silent.

"You boys did good with that bastard." John added sincerely. And Sam just couldn't take it. There he was, all wise and mighty. Sam wasn't dependent on his praise anymore. Never was. They'd faced so much worse since then. He didn't need commendations from his dad.

Sam stood up with a bitch face and turned to go.

"What?" John barked irritated. That's when Sam realized he was being unfair. He laughed awkwardly. "I dunno dad. It's just weird having you back."

"Are you still a teenager or what?" John accused.

"No! Sorry dad. Like I said - it's just weird." Sam said.

"Forget it Sam. Know what? When's Dean gonna come back?"

"Around lunchtime, I guess." Sam answered.

"Good." John said, and went to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

* * *

The bunker started to smell after John's old "throw in everything you got and make it work somehow" stew soon enough. And yeah, it smelled just as Sam remembered it. It was the little treat they seldomly got when John had been able to stay long enough to recover fully from the latest hunt and then some days.

"You know dad, if you want to treat Dean you'd just need to get him pie." Sam informed with a smile.

"Sammy, there's no one who knows Dean better than I do. I know."

Sam cringed a little at his name, but he had to smile even wider. How little did John know.

"But I remember you liked my stew."

"I did." Sam replied, still smiling to himself. He liked the stew because it was the only hand-cooked thing he ever got to eat. But now that he discovered Dean's cooking, it wasn't all that special anymore. Anyway, it was nice of him to cook for them.

Finally the door swung open and in strode Dean with bags in each hand, Cas tailing closely after with bags of his own. Sam could tell the moment the smell hit Dean's nostrils at the way his eyes went wide and his mouth hung open.

"Dad?" he shouted full of exitement. "You cooked for us?"

"Sure did."

"Awesome!" Dean grinned. Sam could only shake his head. He couldn't belive Dean. He thought Dean had realized by now how much of a dick their dad had been to them. But Dean still looked at him as if he'd hung up the stars for him.

In about no time, the table was set and all four sat down to eat. Sure enough John dug in with gusto. Sam and Dean tried a bite and then looked at each other. It's funny how childhood memories can betray you from time to time. Sure, it was edible... but it really wasn't the best dish the bunker had ever seen. Cas ate only a few bites before he declared himself finished and left the table. Sure enough, John's eyes travelled after him skeptically.

"He's still not used to eat. Angels don't do that." Dean tried immediately to excuse his friend.

"Okay." John replied simply.

Sam didn't say anything. Dean's excuse was weak, but Dad didn't know that. Cas had dug into everything Dean had made so far with exitement.

"So... what are you hunting?" John asked.

"Nothing, right now. Just coming down from a big gig." Dean said.

A look passed between Dean and Sam and both silently agreed on not telling John about their current problem.

"Then we should start looking." John said.

Sam's face got stony, but luckily enough John was too concentrated on his food to notice. John didn't even consider the possibility that they could, maybe, have stopped hunting.

The rest of the lunch went over in silence. When they all stood up, a silent agreement was reached when both boys looked at each other and Dean declared "I'm gonna help you with the dishes."

"Good." Was John's reply. Typical, no thanks.

Sam dissappeared into the depth of the archives.

* * *

"Hey Crowley, how you're doing?" Sam asked as he came to bring him something to eat.

"Plain bread?" Crowley asked. "Moose... you dissapoint me. I thought after all we've been through, you'd treat me better."

"That's all I was able to sneak off." Sam answered.

"Sneak off?" Crowley prodded, frowning curiously.

"Things got a bit more complicated." Sam answered.

Crowley took a bite from the bread Sam held in front of his face and chewed. Sam flinched back a little. He really didn't want to get bit again.

"Come on, moose..." Crowley pleaded as he finished his first bite. "Can we loosen the shackles? I'm no threat anymore. I want to redeem myself, and the first step is that I'm not going to try anything if you let me eat like a normal human being."

"Crowley, we've got no clue what the heck you are right now. I'm not taking chances." Sam replied as he held the bread out to Crowley again.

Crowley took a bite with a pointed look. He made chewing look miserable. But Sam didn't fall for it, Crowley had been a demon. Maybe, he still was. Manipulative was in the job describtion.

After they were finished and Crowley also had a drink, Sam moved to close the hidden door.

"No, Sam, please don't. Come on, moose! Gigantor? You know you like me too much!"

"That's for your own safety, Crowley." Sam said, closed the door and hid it.

* * *

A/N: I reseached John a little, and realized how little we actually know about this guy. I'm taking some liberties to flesh him out a little more in a way that makes sense, like his stew. Tell me what you think. Still not sure about this.


	3. Chapter 3

The afternoon had John flipping through old newspapers, catching up on what he missed. Sam and Dean were somewhere in the depth of the library, cataloging all the stuff of the bunker. There was little of interest in the latest newspapers, not even any demonic omens, although his sons said more demons walked the earth than before he died. But there was one event that stood out. A meteor shower that surprised everyone on earth. Not even Nasa had any explanation for what happened. He pondered about the scattered articles spread over the table, when a phone rang. John picked it up and saw the caller ID "Charlie". He had no idea which of his sons phone it was and which personae they were currently using, so he just answered with a simple "Yes?"

"You're not Dean," a girl answered on the other end of the line, sounding confused.

"No, I'm not. What do you want?" John asked.

There was a short silence on the other end of the line before the girl said, "Just wanted to chat, that's all."

"Okay." John asked, smiling. So Dean found a girl. "I'll tell him you called, alright?"

"Thanks," the girl replied. "Bye."

John just closed the phone and turned back to the articles, searching for cases and tracking weird stuff.

* * *

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked nonchalantly while they were sorting through the books in the library.

"What?" The older brother replied.

"I just wanted to ask if you're doing okay." Sam said.

Dean turned to look at him. "Me? If I'm doing okay? You've got something mixed up there Sam because I wasn't the one screwed seven ways from sunday."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Dean. I mean dad... you seem different - tense - since he's back."

Dean just stared at him before his mouth started working. "What the hell are you talking about, Sam? I'm thrilled he's back!"

"I know," Sam said and shrugged apologetically. "It's just, you seem a little too thrilled, too eager. I mean, all the shit he put us through and you're still looking for his approval?"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Dean snapped. "As far as I remember, you were the one who always picked fights with dad, not me!"

"But not anymore." Sam argued. "I still don't like how we were raised, Dean, but I'm okay with it now. Are you?"

"Of course I'm okay with it. Jeez. You want me and dad to what? Have tea parties and braid our hair?"

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I'm done here for today." Dean announced and stomped away, muttering "Bitch" just before he headed out of the door.

* * *

Sam stayed a while longer in the library, taking notes in their library journal and just trying to get a handle on the enormity that was their library. Dean, in the meanwhile, was aggressively cleaning their whole arsenal, sitting next to Cas who was enthralled in one of Sam's old books. John was on the other end of the huge table, equally enthralled in newspaper reports. Dean knew better than to disturb the man while he was working. Of course their dad would want to go hunting again immediately.

A simple, repetitive task like cleaning guns or working on his baby always distracted Dean enough that he didn't have to think about whatever topic had him worked up. After a while of silent working, he calmed and managed to forget Sam ever brought up that topic of discussion, and his mind started to wander. Curious, he looked over to Cas to see what he was reading and caught a sniff from the guy.

"Jeez, Cas! When was the last time you had a shower?"

Cas looked up confusedly. "I don't remember."

"Are you saying you never had a shower since you came back here?" Dean asked.

Cas slowly shrugged with his shoulders. "You showed me how to shave..." he said slowly, "and how to brush my teeth. You never said anything about showering."

Dean sighed exasperated. "And you never, you know, noticed that Sam and me do that regularly?"

"There are still a lot of things about humanity that I don't understand." Cas replied defensively.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean saw John looking over at that, filing Cas for what he just heard under "weird" and "probably dangerous".

"Okay, come on. You need to shower, right now."

Reluctantly, Cas put the book aside and followed Dean to the bathroom. Dean borrowed him some spare clothes and explained the basics before he left Cas to it. As he came back, John sent a judgemental glance in his way, but he said nothing, so Dean stayed silent himself. Thankfully, a loud banging on the door disturbed the awkward silence and Dean went to get it.

"Charlie?" He exclaimed surprised as the redhead fell around his neck hugged him tightly.

"A weird guy answered your phone, I was afraid you're in trouble!" she explained, "I'm so glad to see you're okay! Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." Dean replied. "We just got a visitor, that's all."

Charlie let go of Dean and they went inside the bunker.

"Charlie, met John." Dean said, "I bet he's the one you talked to."

Charlie froze on the spot she was just standing. "John?" she asked, and stared at the older man. Immediately, she saw all the little similarities between Dean and his dad. "You mean, John, like in, John Winchester?"

"The very same" John said and extended his hand to her.

Charlie still looked spooked as she took his hand and he squeezed it, just a little too hard.

"But how is that even possible?" she asked, and before either of the men could reply something she added, "Scratch that. I don't wanna know."

She squirmed through the two men and carried her bagpack inside. "Okay if I bunk here tonight? I just drove three hours like crazy because I thought some evil sons of bitches have gotten to you."

"Sure thing." Dean replied.

"Thanks!" Charlie said, smiling at him warmly.

Sam emerged from the depth of the library, having heard the rumble of Charlies arrival.

"Sam!" She squeed, "What's up, Bitch?"

Sam laughed and swept her up to a hug. "All fine, and you?"

"Quite a hotshot, that girl you got there." John said, while Charlie and Sam exchanged more pleasantries.

"Yeah." Dean replied, grinning. "She's something."

"Good taste." John said and clapped his son on the shoulder, grinning widely before he turned and headed back to his research. Dean needed a moment to realize what his dad had just implied, his eyes travelling confused between Charlie and John. By the time he brought out the incredulous "What?", John was too busy in his research to notice.

* * *

**A/N **

So this was a transitional chapter, please excuse there was so little John in this one. There'll be more of him next time. I finally have an idea where to go with this, which is good news, but don't forget, lots of reviews helps feeding a writer's muse ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Charlies warm and cheerful presence prevented any weird tension that could have come up in the makeshift family. Sam realized they haven't had this much family around since that fateful day in Carthage, Missouri. And they really were family. As much as he had butted heads with John, Sam never realized how much he really did miss the guy. He was his dad, after all, and John loved them both, more than anything. That Cas was family goes without saying, and Charlie really had wormed her way into the brother's hearts. She was currently tugging lightly at Sam's sleeve to get his attention.

"Is that Castiel?" she asked excitedly.

Sam turned to see that Cas had joined them in the main room with wet, ruffled hair. "Yeah."

"Dude, is he... is he wearing Dean's clothes?" Charlie asked surprised.

Sam raised his brows and shrugged. "Seems so. I guess we have to get him his own eventually."

Charlie almost burst with excitement. "I'm gonna have to go shopping with him and Dean. We had so much fun last time!"

Sam grinned. So much for Dean and his manly pretense, Charlie saw right through it.

Charlie strode forward purposefully and cornered Cas. "You probably don't know me, but I know you, from the books. I just need to thank you that you helped the boys and risked so much for them!" she explained a little nervously, before closing her arms around him for a hug. Cas went stiff as a board and brought up his hands awkwardly, looking over her shoulder at Sam, pleading for help with his eyes. Sam just grinned at them.

"You're welcome." Cas replied awkwardly.

Dean turned to look at them just in time to see the awkward hug and chuckled.

"Cas, always the ladies man," he joked, "You gotta watch out, Charlie."

Charlie released Cas, who was clearly relieved, and threw a grin Dean's way.

"Now what do I have to do to get something to eat around here?" she asked.

"I can fix something." John offered. Knowing John, it would probably be something like microwaved soup. Or some more stew.

"No, thanks dad, I'll take care of it." Dean answered, and went to busy himself in the kitchen.

"Awsome!" Charlie exclaimed. "Are we going to get the famous Dean Winchester burgers?"

"Just for you." Dean confirmed and poked her playfully. "Now shoo, I need space."

A smile passed on Johns face.

"What?" Dean asked, glancing at him irritated.

"Oh, nothing." John said. "Just, you boys really have settled in here."

"Yeah, awesome, right?" Dean answered with a proud grin. "You should see my mattress. It remembers me!"

"Do I have to understand that?" John asks.

"Not really." Sam laughed.

"Memory foam." Charlie stage whispered.

"And Dean's not even half bad at cooking." Sam added with a grin.

John started clearing the table of his notes and Charlie moved to help, but Sam held her back with a hand. "You don't mess with dad's notes," he said, "you just don't."

"Okay?" Charlie wondered and backed off, following John with her eyes. She was pretty intimidated by the guy, no wonder by the way he was portrayed in the books.

Soon enough, the table was set and they all settled down with a burger.

Charlie started making pornographic noises the moment she took the first bite. "Oh my god Dean, this is delicious!" she exclaimed. "You know I love you, right?"

Dean chuckled. "I know."

John smiled at them both. "How did you two meet?" he asked.

"On a hunt." Dean said.

"Yeah," Charlie added, "I was the damsel in distress."

"Not really!" Sam cut in, "You helped us."

"Right. And really, boys, you guys are awesome... but I never wanna work with you again."

"Sorry to disappoint sugar, but neither do we." Dean replied with a grin.

* * *

After they finished dinner, John waved Sam over with a solemn expression on his face.

"Sam... can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure!" Sam replied and led them deeper into the library for some privacy. "What's up, dad?"

"Tell me something. Why are you still hunting?" he asked. "What happened to your school plans?"

Sam looked away, gathering his thoughts. "No such luck." he said. "Dad, I tried to get out. I really tried. But the job drags you back in every. single. time." He ran his hand through his hair frustrated. "We didn't really have a choice."

"What happened, after yellow eyes died?" John asked with concern.

Sam met his gaze. "Yellow eyes was just the start of everything. Dad, back then? We had no fucking idea of what was going on. The demons, and angels, they were playing us like puppets on strings. And when we managed to defeat one big bad evil, there was always something else we pissed off somewhere along the way."

"And now?" John asked. "Dean I understand. He always wanted this life. But why don't you get out?"

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Dad, Dean never wanted this life. All Dean ever wanted was a family."

"Why then doesn't he settle down now? You both?"

"We... I don't know. I don't think we can. We pissed off some major players."

John nodded thoughtfully. "Well then. There are some things I wanted to show you, both of you. I think I found some hunts."

And Sam had to give the guy credit. He never expected John to ask about hunting, and he never expected to ask before trying to get them back into the game.

* * *

They trotted back to the main room and John waved Dean over before he spread his notes on the table once more.

"There are a couple of things you boys probably already noticed." John said.

Dean took a quick glance over and pointed at a pile. "You can rule those out, dad. That was us... kinda."

John looked at the articles about the meteor shower and back at Dean. "What the hell happened there?"

"Those were my brothers and sisters." Cas deadpanned. The Winchesters hadn't even noticed he had joined them.

John looked at Cas with sharp eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"The angels have fallen." Castiel said, his voice carefully devoid of any emotion. "All of them. There is nothing we can do."

Cas was feigning indifference but Dean and Sam both knew exactly how bad he felt. In the background, Charlie had laid a hand over her mouth to stay silent.

John still stared at Cas, his gaze scrutinizing.

"Allright." he finally said. "What else?"

Sam and Dean both bent over the notes and sorted out all omens and other stuff they had an explanation for. There were surprisingly many cases left after that. Tracking always had been John's strongest skill as a hunter.

"What do you say about a good, old fashioned ghost hunt?" Dean asked cheerfully, "To get back in the game, hey dad?"

"Okay. I don't see anything more pressing right now. Of course, if you boys know of anything bigger?"

"Nah." Dean said. "We want to keep our profile low for a while anyway. And Cas needs to get used to hunting."

John straightened himself. "Dean. I'm not going hunting with him."

"What?" Dean asked surprised.

"Sorry, boy. Not going to happen," John said with finality in his voice.

Dean stood to face off his dad and looked directly down at him. "And why is that so?"

"I don't hunt with strangers," John replied simply, crossing his arms.

"Cas is not a stranger. He's coming," Dean insisted.

"Dean," Cas tried, "It's all right. I can stay here."

"No, it's not!" Dean barked, turning to look Cas in the eye. "You need to learn the hunter 1-0-1, in order to survive. There are still fuckers out there for you, I'm sure of it, and I don't want anything to happen to you!"

Cas stared right back at Dean, at a loss of words. John backed off a little, observing.

"But Sam stays." Dean decided.

"But Dean!" Sam tried to argue.

"No, Sam!" Dean barked, "You're still not one-hundred-percent recovered. You're nor ready to hunt yet!"

"I'm fine, Dean!" Sam insisted. "For days, now! I'm ready to hunt!"

"No, you're not!" Dean replied. "You just act as if you were okay, but that's all it is, an act. You think I don't notice your bloody rags?"

Sam stayed silent now, looking at his hands abashed.

"I'm sorry Sam, but I want you to get better before you start hunting again."

"Okay." Sam said. He didn't want to fight about that again. He knew, that this time, it was only Dean's concern for him speaking. "But you call for research!" he added. Dean nodded.

"Everything clear now?" Dean asked around.

"Okay." John said icily, and stepped up to Dean. "We'll take your buddy with us. But he's your responsibility."

John had his commander tone, and Dean answered with "Yes, sir." before he could stop himself.

"And Dean?" John added, his voice low and daunting. "Don't take that tone with me again. Ever. Are we clear on that?"

Dean gulped. "Yes, sir." he said more quietly.

John sent one more glare at Dean, than one at Cas before he turned and left for his room.

"We're leaving in the morning." John threw over his shoulder before he disappeared.

"Wow." Charlie muttered uneasy as soon as John was gone.

"Welcome to the Winchester family." Sam commented.

* * *

**A/N** Hi all you fans of John&Sam dialogue! Sorry the hunt means we don't get to see too much of them next chapter, but I just couldn't igore how broken Sam was after sacrifice. And having them sitting in the bunker all day is also pretty boring, don't ya think? But I do have some pretty heavy stuff for John and Sam planned later in the story, and besides, Sam isn't well know for sitting on his but when his brother might need him, so who knows what'll happen? I don't, at least not yet. Thank y'all for the reviews, they really help me keep on track with this story!


	5. Chapter 5

Next morning, Dean was out early and threw his and Cas' duffle into the trunk of the impala. Charlie and Sam trotted out of the bunker and Charlie tossed her bagpack into her little car.

"So I guess that's it," she said and hugged Sam. "Bye, Sam."

"Bye, Charlie," Sam replied with a smile. "Was good to see you again."

"Mirrored!" Charlie joked and made an exaggerated larping gesture.

Sam chuckled at the antics of their friend. Charlie moved on to Dean and hugged him tightly.

"Be careful!" she said, "And call me when you're done. I wanna know if you're all right!"

"Sure thing, Charlie," Dean smiled.

"An call me if you need to talk about anything, okay?" Charlie added, and looked earnestly from one brother to the other. "I'm serious, my ears are always open for you boys."

"Okay." Sam smiled. Both of the Winchesters were still a little surprised about how much Charlie cared for them.

Charlie waved one last time as she walked backwards to her little car. "So long, Bitches!"

Both Winchesters waved back and stood for a moment, watching her car drive of.

"I don't know about you, Sammy, but I think we haven't seen the last of her." Dean grinned. "I mean, she's like you. You never get rid of an annoying little sisters for long."

Sam turned his head to face Dean with his trademark bitch-face. "Jerk!"

Dean just chuckled. "I hope Cas and Dad come out soon, I can't wait to hit the road again."

"Let's hope the old man doesn't murder Cas in there."

"Well, I don't know about that." Dean replied, shrugging. "Cas 's mortal now, true, but he's still one tough Son of a Bitch. Don't know who I'd put my money on."

Sam was now smiling at Dean with one of his thoughtful looks that always meant something was going on in that big giant brain of his.

"What?" Dean asked, irritated.

"Oh, nothing. You stood your ground against the old man yesterday. That's good. Until he shot you down, but hey, you got what you wanted."

"Shut up, Sam." Dean said.

"You know dad is only concerned." Sam prodded.

"How many times do I have to tell the guy that Cas is okay?" Dean shot back.

"He has to find it out himself," Sam explained, shrugging nonchalantly, "You know how he is, never hunted with others."

Cas finally emerged from the bunker and joined the two.

"Your father's behaviour is most... disconcerting." Cas murmured.

"Just... try not to piss him off, okay?" Dean suggested.

"You don't understand," Cas said, frowning at Dean. "He used to pray to me. Why is he now so suspicious?"

Sam and Dean's mouths both dropped, but they couldn't elaborate this bomb any further since John came out, with a duffle of his own slung over his shoulder.

"Let's get this show on the road, Dean," he said and tossed his duffle into the trunk of the Impala. He grinned at Dean. "Just like the good old times."

"Yeah." Dean grinned, but it came out forced. Dean was still a little shocked from Cas' revelation.

They all waved at Sam and exchanged greetings as they piled into the car, and Dean drove them off to the hunt.

* * *

The drive was as long as it was uneventful. And it was just as weird to all sitting in the car. Dean cranked the radio up to fill the unsettling silence, but that didn't help much to ease the tension. There wasn't any bad blood in the car - no one had a fight with anyone. But the situation was weird. Having John around, that wasn't something Dean could adjust to in just one day. In a silent car, weird can turn into unnerving very fast. It was noticeable in many little things, like that Cas was sitting behind Dean's drivers seat instead of his usual spot in the middle of the backseat. No one spoke a word. Dean wasn't sure if his dad was aware of the tension in the car. John just looked out of the window in steady silence. But as they finally neared Philly after more than twenty hours of driving, they were all too tired and the tension deflated like the energy in everyone's bodies. Sure enough, they stopped at the first ratty motel they could find and fell face first into the pillows.

Surprisingly, Dean woke up as the first the next morning. Yawning, he sat up and looked around. He had been too tired to take in the room when they came in last night. They'd only stayed conscious long enough to put salt at the window sills, plant some hexbags for protection, the usual. Not that he cared about the room, really. But now he was noticing that the sleeping arrangement hadn't been as random as it seemed last night.

They had booked a room with three beds. Two beds were fairly near to the door. John took the first one, as he had always done. If anything came through that door, it would go down on him instead of his boys. Dean had fallen into the bed next to him - And Cas slept in the bed on the other side of the room, the one that was the farthest away from John's bed.

Dean stood up and stretched, not giving to much thought to it. He was still only half-conscious and went over to the small kitchenette to make some coffee. The smell of fresh coffee soon enough woke Cas. Cas blinked at fist, only half-conscious, then he suddenly shot up from the bed and looked around himself in panic. When it registered that he was in a small motel room with Dean and John, he calmed down and walked over to Dean, invading his personal space once more.

"What was that?" Dean asked, amused. He was keeping his voice down not to wake his dad.

"I'm still not used to sleeping." Cas explained, disgruntled. Dean handed him a cup of coffee.

Dean just nodded. Normally, he would have been more amused. But Cas had completely panicked. About sleeping. Now was 2013. How will Cas be holding up in one year from now?

The smile dropped from Dean's face.

"Hey buddy," Dean said and grabbed Cas' shoulder, "you'll get used to it. Sleep's a great thing, you'll see."

Dean's eyes were searching Cas', who was staring right back at Dean with a frown.

"How can sleep be a good thing? If you loose consciousness, you can't defend yourself."

Dean sighed heavily. "That's why we take extra care that all the protection stuff is in place before we go to sleep. Trust me on this, nothing's going to happen to you while you're asleep."

"You're right," Cas replied darkly, "Because nothing can come through dreams. Not now anyway, since all angels are gone."

Dean's hand slipped off Cas' shoulder and landed on his side. It felt like talking to six-year old Sam, only that Cas knew what was going bump in the dark and was pissed as hell.

"You know that Angels used to protect dreams?" Cas asked, glancing at Dean with one of his meaningful looks. Dean narrowed his eyes, making a mental list of the monsters he knew that were dreamwalkers or fed off dreaming people. If what Cas was saying was true, there was nothing left that stopped them.

"Well, that was creepy anyway." Dean said, returning to his usual snark.

Cas eyes dropped and narrowed, and Dean cursed himself for being a stupid idiot once more. As much as he hated chick-flick-talks, there's one thing he would hate so much more. Cas could not turn into a drug-wreck. Dean could not have that. And right now, Cas might look pissed. But it didn't need a genius to figure out what was really going on with his angel.

"Tell you what, Cas." Dean said, and then hesitated a bit, fidgeting with his mug. He couldn't really think of anything that could possibly be worth saying. God, he hated chick-flick talks. But he just sighed and went with the first thing he thought of. "It could be worse. You're not helpless, you're not hapless, and you're not alone in this. Family don't end in blood, remember?"

Cas face softened at that, and he looked up at Dean again.

"Now can we talk about something else?" Dean sighed, uncomfortable.

"Yes, Dean." Cas smiled.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys! It really means a lot. Oh god, in my mind this story it turning from a random snippet idea to a heavy plotfic. Season 8 opened so many doors and there is so much to discover! I'm reading way to much speculation lately and I have so many ideas that'll fit here, since this kinda is my season 8 coda. And that wouldn't have been possible without my dear readers. Please continue to be awesome. Needless to say, this might turn out to be one helluva long story. But rest assured, I'll keep some focus on John. Thus, the title of this story might change at some point, so don't be surprised when it does. Thanks & keep reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A/N: Sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last! Life was getting in the way, and writing a hunt is way out of my comfort zone, I'm much better at just sticking characters together in a room and have hilarity/drama/whatever... ;) I'll try to update once a week from now on. I had some real trouble focusing on this chapter, sorry if it feels a little inconsistent/jerky. I try to be better next time. And thank you all for the nice reviews, keep it up! I hope you still like this chapter :)

One of my reviewers pointed out that Sam should be seriously ill after the season finale. I agree. I'm not a fan of Sam!whump though, so I chose to let him heal without complications or need for obscure rituals. I'm sorry if I hadn't made it extra clear that this story is set a few weeks after sacrifice, so Sam already had weeks to recover. He's about as good now as he was after the first trial.

* * *

After Breakfast, they called Sam and put him on speaker to hear what he found out with his research while they were driving. Cas was just listening during the whole conversation, and staring at the newspaper articles as if he could read something that the other's couldn't.

"Not much," was the first thing Sam said. "Just what you guys already saw in the newspaper. Woman jumps out of the building with her kid, for no known reason. She wasn't known to have any psychological issues. Police calls it a murder-suicide anyway. And after the case, all the neighbors started whispering about the ghost in the building. It sounds like the classic haunted building."

"Any history on the house?" John asked.

"That's the weird thing," Sam said. "Building is only ten years old. I couldn't find any weird deaths."

"Maybe it's something under the building?" Dean suggested. "Like, in the canalisation?"

"Have fun checking." Sam said with an audible grin.

"Bitch," Dean muttered.

"Jerk," Sam responded with no heat.

"It could also be a haunted item that the woman recently got." John pondered.

They kept talking a little more about their theories, but it was soon decided they should just head out and see what they find.

* * *

First stop was, of course, the supposedly haunted house. And the EMF confirmed that it was indeed the house that was haunted. It started perking up when they entered the woman's flat, and went wild when they got to the large window she jumped out of. They all searched for an item that could be haunted, but they couldn't find anything near the window curtains in the living room, where the EMF was the strongest.

The next question was, who, and why haunted the building?

The whole day had passed surprisingly smoothly. Dean was every bit the professional John had raised him to be. Even more so - John was proud to see how well Dean had developed. He asked exactly the right questions, took the right steps - and most of all, did all that with a calmness that spoke of experience and confidence. Castiel hung back mostly, and let Dean and John do the talking. Early on, when they were talking to an eye-witness, Castiel had once opened his mouth, but a touch to his arm and a glance from Dean shushed him. There were some more meaningful glances exchanged that John couldn't really read anything into. But as long as the dude was not in their way, he could deal with it.

But the whole day, they couldn't really find anything, despite pulling out all the stops. Sure, the neighbors had spoken of typical ghost signs, and there was still the EMF. But the men started to doubt they would find any leads. Finally, it was decided to stay for the night and see for themselves.

It was already past dawn when the three men arrived in the flat and bunked down to stay for the night. Dean gave Sam another call just to find out his brother had jack squat for him. Also, no news on Crowley. The demon was still sitting around, ate the stuff Sam brought him and claimed to be human.

Sighing, Dean sat down on the empty floor, leaning against the wall. This could be a long night, and he could may as well try to be as comfortable as possible. John kept walking in rounds around the flat, always alert. Cas was standing stiffly at the window where whatever supposedly happened. This went on in silence for a while, until Dean couldn't take the sight of Cas standing here anymore and he patted the spot next to him.

"Heya Cas, sit down. It's going to be a long night."

Cas returned Dean's look and seemed to consider a moment before he sat down next to Dean. They sat a while longer in silence, until finally, Cas' eyes dropped and he fell asleep, coming to rest on Dean's shoulder. Cas hadn't even fought his dropping eyes. Dean wasn't sure Cas sleep-hazy mind had even realized he was falling asleep.

Dean just rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. The situation had a weird kind of familiarity. Bunking in a haunted building with his family - he couldn't even remember how often they had done that. Even if Sam was missing and Cas was with them instead, the similarities were striking. The patriarch, the deviant son, the good son. Dean's stomach revolted. And of course, John choose that exact moment to enter the room. He stopped short when he discovered Dean and Cas in the current compromising position, looking at them crossly.

"How, exactly, is this helping the hunt?" he asked calmly.

Dean shrugged with the unoccupied shoulder. "If we're here all night he may as well get some shut eye. Don't worry, I'm looking out."

John's expression changed into something Dean could not quite read. It wasn't angry anymore. More... weary? resigned?

"You know he's not Sammy," John stated.

Dean just stared dumbfounded. For a moment of Dean's incredulous staring, nobody said a word. Cas continued snoring quietly onto Dean's neck. John broke their eye-contact only to take another look at their surroundings.

"What?", Dean croaked finally.

John looked back at him. "You protect him just like Sammy. But he's not your little brother, Dean."

And Dean had no idea what to say to that. It came completely out of nowhere.

"What?" Dean asked again, his face contorting to almost comical amounts of pure What. The. Fuck. With capitals and all.

And then, a glimpse at Cas and he realized what particular hunt he had been reminded of earlier. It had been when Sam was just catching up to his height, still just a couple of inches shorter than Dean. That day Sam had been wearing his clothes, and they had looked like two clones of each other. Well, a weird floppy haired and a neat clone, but hey. And he couldn't even remember what had been wrong with Sam's clothes, not that it mattered.

"Of course he's not Sam!" Dean sputtered defensive. Because this was just all kinds of ridiculous. And John didn't even look mad anymore. He just had his typical, stoic face that said he had everything under control. And whatever John did with this, Dean had no idea.

"Okay then," John said, and returned to his rounds.

And Dean couldn't help the feeling that he had just completely, and utterly, screwed up.

Next to him, Cas blinked his eyes open and lifted his head.

"What just happened?" he asked wearily, turning to look at Dean. His face was so friggin' close.

Dean pushed him away with a little more force than exactly necessary, but sue him. If there was something he couldn't handle right now it was Cas' disregard for personal space.

"You just fell asleep on my shoulder, dude!" Dean scoffed.

"My apologies." Cas stated quietly. Dean whipped his head around to look at Cas at the small sound of the words.

"Don't sweat it," Dean said. And he knew he should have said something smarter.


	7. Chapter 7

It was quiet for a while after Dean and John had their little fight - if it could be called that. But eerie singing started a while later. It was barely audible at first, but grew stronger. Yet it was distant, and the hunters couldn't quite make out were it came from. Then it passed again, just to start back up from another direction moments later.

It was the voice of a girl singing. The song was about butterflies, and the voice seemed to be happy. Of course, everything about that was wrong. There was no such thing as a happy ghost. They all searched the flat, even the hallway, but no ghost manifested itself.

But still, there was the singing. And then the voice giggled to itself contently, the volume fading into nothing.

"I think it came from the bathroom." Cas said quietly and went to check just that, shotgun at the ready. Dean followed, watching his surroundings alert. It was silent right now, aside from their steps.

Both searched the bathroom for any signs, but it was empty. Despite better knowledge, Dean was disappointed. Little girl ghost always were the most unsettling for him. There was just something about them that irked him to no end. Little girls should be at home, treasured by their parents, not violently ripped from life way to young.

Cas kneeled down and opened the cabinet below the sink. There was enough space in there for a little girl to crawl into. Dean held his breath, expecting something to happen as Cas stuck his head in.

He was not disappointed. But what happened wasn't the violent something tearing Cas' head off as he expected. Instead, there was a little girl, standing only a few feet next to him. She was cute, dressed in a nice, clean dress, clutching onto a unicorn toy of all things. She couldn't have been much older than five. She just stood there for a moment, looking at Dean, before she raised her hand and pointed at the window, but at the same time she stared at the door of the living room. Then, as suddenly as she was there, she vanished again.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered.

The singing started again from somewhere far away.

Cas head came back out of the cabinet and he tilted it up curiously at Dean.

"I think I have found something," he announced.

Dean knelt down beside him and looked into the cabinet. There was a drawing obviously done by the girl, showing three figures. There was a woman, holding the hand of a child - the girl, Dean surmised. And with a little distance, there was another figure. Dean couldn't really tell what it meant, it was the drawing of a five-year old. The lines were jerky and the only way he could tell the one figure was a woman was by the length of her hair. It could just as well be Sammy with his absurdly long hair.

Cas looked at him questioningly. Dean shrugged. There wasn't really something he could say.

The singing stopped abruptly, then the girl asked "Mommy?"

And everything fell back into eerie silence. Dean almost wished it would start again, since that would mean the ghost was reliving what happened before whatever happened - not the thing that happened. Little like that just shouldn't happen to little girls.

* * *

The rest of the night passed quietly. The singing came and went, but if never came as close as it was in the bathroom. It was distant, surreal, but it left Dean's nerves frayed nevertheless. Ghost hunts were supposed to be easy. They were not supposed to get under your skin. Shit, how was that even possible with all he had been through?

But there was a very real difference between knowing your foe, the motivations, the problem and not knowing shit about a poor little girl that had something bad happen to her. That it had been a little girl just... bothered him. Especially since she didn't really seem violent. John seemed unfazed by it all, calmly going on his rounds with a shotgun at the ready. Cas, in the meanwhile, was just Cas. Silent and watchful.

But Dean pushed through it with bravado and his give'em hell attitude, like always. Cas just looked at him with his unsettling, deep, knowing look as Dean exclaimed he needed some breakfast. Okay, maybe he had sounded a little too cheerful.

After the quick breakfast, they crashed in the motel to get some real sleep.

* * *

It was already getting late when Sam checked in with news.

"I finally found a lead!" Sam said cheerfully through the speakers of the phone. Then there were some muted noises like Sam was bickering with someone else.

"Sam?" John asked, a little impatiently.

"Oh, sorry. That was Charlie. She found the lead." Sam sighed. "She insisted to tell you."

"But she just left." Dean wondered.

"I have her on on Skype. Anyways," Sam continued, "there was a case, and it was surprisingly hard to find. The records were sealed for some reason. I don't even know where Charlie hacked into to find this. So, a woman jumped out of the building with her five-year old daughter six years ago. The girl died, Mom went to a mental institution after she woke up from her coma."

"Sounds like a match." John said. "We heard a little girls voice yesterday, Dean even saw her."

"How did she look?" asked Sam.

"Brown hair, green eyes. Cute. Had freckles."

"Sounds like you." Sam snickered.

"Bitch."

"Jerk - yeah, it's definitely a match." On the other end of the phone, Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked at crime scene photos of the girl. Her face was destroyed beyond recognition, but he saw freckles on her arms and brown, curly hair.

"What's her name and where's she buried?" John asked.

"Mary-Ann Schneider. She's buried in the Ivy Hill Cemetery."

* * *

A few hours later, the group made it's way from the cemetery back to the haunted building. They just wanted to make sure everything was resolved before driving back to the bunker.

"We'll take turns this time." John decided. "You two sleep first."

It wasn't really necessary for them all to stay awake as they all believed the haunt to be over. Dean and Cas, both tired from the grave digging, immediately flopped down onto some thin, old mattresses they found in a closet.

It didn't take Dean long to fall asleep, and as a hand gently shook him to wake up, he felt like he hadn't slept for one second. With a grunt, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"Do you hear this?" John asked quietly.

"Son of a bitch." Dean murmured. His dad was right. There was the small voice of the girl singing, far away and yet still there.

"Get ready," John said and stood up to take another round through the apartment.

Dean rubbed his eyes once more before he reached over to wake up Cas. The ex-angel was deeply asleep and it took some hard shaking and several grunted "Cas!" to finally get a sleepy moan out of him.

"Never thought anyone could be less a morning person than Sam." Dean murmured more to himself than the sleepy man next to him. It's not like Cas was listening.

"Cas, get up already! We're on a hunt!" Dean griped and shook him more violently. Cas finally rolled over and blinked irritated as he took in the surroundings.

"A hunt?" He asked, sounding confused as he squinted at Dean.

"Ya. Torching lil' girl bones didn't solve this one."

* * *

Most of the night passed just like the last one. They all stayed alert, searched the flat for clues, and listened to the singing voice. It was frustrating that there wasn't anything happening - nothing they could do right now to solve the problem. They were just able to stand and listen. And the Winchester men didn't have a lot of patience on the best of days.

"I just wished that ghost would fucking show itself." Dean murmured, agitated, as he surveyed the large window. John shot him a warning look, silently telling him to stay alert, but Dean didn't show any reaction to it. Sighing, Dean let the curtain drop. It was too silent in this room. Right now, it was dead silent. Not even the singing was present. In a building in the middle of the city, such silence shouldn't even be possible. There were no cars driving by, no sounds of passerbys chatting. It felt as if the whole city held it's collective breath, watching the Winchesters in silent for their next attempt.

But no - the sound of tiny footsteps came from the other room. Dean and Cas briefly looked at each other in silent communication, Dean nodding in confirmation as Cas turned around to go and see if the sound had changed anything. Cas footsteps were much to loud in the dead silence that hung once more over the room, cloaking everything in unnatural silence and the agitating sense of the supernatural present. Even Cas himself seemed surprised at the sound of his heavy boots - Dean's spare pair - as he stopped short, only to continue more carefully.

Dean turned to look at his dad. John had his typical alert stance, the one Dean had seen at countless hunts. But Dean knew his dad - and he seemed more agitated as he usually had been during hunts. If this flat was affecting him, or if he was weary because of Cas, or some other reason, Dean couldn't tell.

Someone - or rather, something, brushed past Dean. He jerked his head around immediately, only to see the little girl from the day before, clutching forlornly at her unicorn toy while looking out of the window.

"It's where dreams come true," she murmured, absently.

"Hey, talk to me!" Dean asked, hunkering down to be at eye level with the girl. The girl took his hand.

"My mom loved me. She protected me."

And then she was gone again. Dean blinked at the empty space, barely registering that John walked over to him.

"What was it, what did you see?" he asked.

"The girl again," Dean said. He stood back up. "Why am I the only one who keeps seeing her?"

John shrugged. "Beats me."

John took a thoughtful look out of the window, then he turned his gaze on Dean, considering.

"What?" Dean asked.

John shook his head as he snapped out of his reverie and said, "Nothing."

John put a few steps of distance between them again, but it didn't help Dean not feeling watched as John again looked at him, an odd look on his face. Dean was a little weirded out. He was pretty used to some people standing way to close and watching him all the time. Okay, actually just one person. But it still bugged him. Especially because of that odd look on his dad's face.

But because he was his dad, Dean didn't say anything. Instead, he tried to remember if that was something John had usually done. And no. It was kinda weird thinking that way back, but John had always had his eyes more on the surroundings than on his boys. Even in the time between hunts. It just wasn't like him not to concentrate on the hunt. Dean let his eyes travel around the flat, and of course he was still watching the surroundings. But at the same time, he tried to sneak a curious look at his dad without directly staring at him. As odd as this was, this was his dad. Dean felt the odd urge to pass the few feet between them, crawl into his lap and let himself be held until the hunt was over. But of course, that thought was instantly sushed. His dad would always protect him. But just like when he was little, he wanted to show that he could hold his own.

For a moment, Dean managed to shoo away those weird, unwanted trails of thoughts. But they came back, with force. He felt like five years all over again. He just wanted a hug, goddamnit. He just wanted to show how much he appreciated that his dad was always watching out for them. He knew that their situation was hard, and he knew dad did his best with the shitty hand that had been dealt to him. He knew how much John cared. Even if he never showed it physically. But Dean... he didn't know how to say thank you. He was barely able to speak after all he had seen in his young age.

John walked over now, his face tired and sad. "I'm sorry boy." he said. And he must have seen Dean's trembling lip and his uncertain gaze as he wrapped his arms around Dean and held on tightly. It didn't matter that Dean was taller than his father, he felt just like five years old, scared from the things that came out of the dark, still a young child, long before he learned that he shouldn't cry. And he did. Silent tears started streaming over his cheeks and fell onto his fathers leather jacket, and John just held on tighter.

There were still no sounds in the room. Not a car driving by, not some pedestrians chatting. Only the silent steps of a freak that entered the room. Two surprised eyebrows as blue eyes saw the scene.

"Don't worry, boy," John murmured, stroking a hand over Dean's hair.

"Daddy?" Dean asked with a small voice, sounding so much like a child, the gruff gone from his voice.

"It's all right. You're safe. I'll keep you safe," John said, and turned hard eyes on Cas. "The monsters won't get you."

With that, he closed the last few steps to the window and flung them both out of the window. Dean didn't struggle. He just held on to his father. Cas lunged forward in an desperate attempt to catch them, but it was useless. He had been to far away.

* * *

**A/N** This chapter really gave me grief... I've held it back a while b/c it was first written out of John's pov, and I really didn't feel comfortable with both the pov and what I had happening in the last scene, so I ended up rewriting the whole thing from scratch. Sorry for the wait. Kinda glad that that's done, though it still doesn't feel quite good enough to me. Thanks for reading & reviewing, and don't forget to be awesome!


	8. Chapter 8

John opened his bleary eyes, slowly taking in the hospital bed and medical equipment around him.

"Dad!" his younger son exclaimed, jumping up from his seat to get a better look at him. "Dad, how do you feel?"

What a stupid question. He didn't bother. Instead, he tried to sit up.

"Take it easy, dad!" Sam protested, one of the huge hands pushing him down again. "Take it easy, okay?"

"What happened?" John asked, his voice rougher than usual.

"We don't know. Apparently, Dean cried, then you cried, and then you jumped out of the window." Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"I cried?" John asked disbelieving.

Sam sent a questioning look to his right.

"He did." Castiel confirmed.

That useless guy. Why didn't he stop them?

"Where's Dean?"

Sam just nodded to his right. John turned his head and saw Dean laying in the bed next to him, with Castiel sitting at his side. Dean was still asleep.

"Is he okay?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah, he'll be okay. But he'll be pissed. His right hand is busted."

"Do you remember anything, dad?" Sam prompted.

"Some," John answered, "How are we even alive?"

Sam smiled. "Pure luck. There were trashcans underneath the window. The paramedics said you landed softly."

John was silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Sam waited patiently.

"It's not the little girl," John finally said, "There's something else. It possessed me to jump. I think it was her mother."

"Huh," Sam responded. "but she's still alive."

John rubbed his forehead, collecting his thoughts. He was still bone-tired and it was hard to think with the drugs clouding his mind.

"It must have been," he said, "I felt... pure desperation. There's no other word for it. I knew, there was nothing I could do, nothing to... keep Dean save... than jump out of that window."

"Safe from what?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Was all just feelings. But whatever it was... it terrified her to her very core."

Sam stared thoughtfully at the blanket covering John's legs.

"You know, it could be a pattern." he said.

"Elaborate."

"The first one was a single mom. The second too. You are a single dad."

John shrugged. He was to tired to care right now and fell back down to the bed.

* * *

"I always knew this guy 'll be the death of 'em," Bobby griped, "Do you have anything else?"

"Nah, sorry man," Ash said, shrugging apologetic as he closed his makeshift computer - or whatever the hell this thing was. "I just manage to hack into a few bits and pieces from time to time."

Bobby sighed and slumped a little on his stool in Ash's roadhouse.

"Don't worry, Bobby, these boys are hard to kill," Ellen said amused as she tinkered around behind the bar. Ash raised one hand.

"Dr. Badass need some fuel, baby!" he exclaimed. Jo grinned and tossed him another can of beer. "Thanks," Ash replied and knocked it back in his very own way, making satisfied moans as the trashed the empty can.

"When ya done bein' disgusting, how about we get back to business?" Bobby asked.

"And what's that again?" Ash asked, "are we chasing this Metatron dude today or that Cas' grace?"

"Both, ya idgit."

"Let's just hope" Ellen commented, "if we find anything, we find a way to tell the boys."

* * *

Dean woke up in the middle of the night. He immediately recognized the beat of the heart monitor to his right. He sat up slowly, trying to push himself up with both arms as he felt a sharp pain in his right hand and collapsed back onto the bed. He raised his right, heavy hand and saw the cast.

"No, not again!" he groaned.

With only his left hand as support, he soldiered on and pushed himself up, taking a look at the room. They all were there. Cas was sitting on a rickety chair right next to him, his head rolled back at an angle that will hurt tomorrow. Sam had been smarter, pushing his chair up against the wall, also deep asleep. And there, in the bed right next to him was his dad.

Concerned, Dean looked his dad over. John was covered in a hospital gown and blankets, but as far as Dean could tell he didn't have any thick bandages or casts. He was still worried, though.

"Dad?" Dean asked quietly, just to check. And really, John opened his eyes and smiled at him.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Yes." John replied.

There was a moment of silence.

"Good." Dean said.

There was another moment of silence. Awkward silence. Dean remembered what happened. And had no idea what to say about it.

"Okay," Dean said finally, "I should try to get some shut-eye."

"Good night, Dean."

"Night, dad."

And thus, it was established to not speak about it.

* * *

**A/N **

So this is just a real shortie, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging too long on that evil cliffy ;) Thanks for the awesome reviews guys, I cherish every single one of them, even if it's an incredulous "What?" ;D Continue to be awesome!

Btw shameless little self-plug... I'm still pretty new on tumblr and I follow back everyone right now. Just type skiingpelican in the search box and my account comes up! (I'd link it here, but you know ff's policies and it's really easier to do it that way)

Also, sucky title sucks, but I can't come up with a better one. Which is kinda new for me, I never had this problem before. I'm taking suggestions. Suggestions get 1000 imaginary cookies and kudos for life. (Btw I know my penname is weird as fuck but I've stuck with it through many fandoms so I'm not gonna change it) Thanks, that'll be all, I'm gonna shut up now. This A/N is too long already.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**

Possible trigger warnings for this chapter and possibly the next few. Since ff's formatting doesn't let me screen the warnings, please scroll to the bottom of this chapter if you're trigger-sensitive. I've also changed the storys rating for the same reason. Thank you

* * *

Dean and John seemed pretty okay the next morning, even if Dean eyed the hospital breakfast with nothing akin to gusto. But it really didn't look very edible.

"So..." Sam prompted while Dean was still pushing the contents of his tray around with the fork, "while you two are here, I guess Cas and me are going to look into a few leads."

Sam watched Dean and John's face warily, knowing fully well they would disapprove. He was right.

"What?" Dean exclaimed immediately, "you're not going anywhere near that Bitch ghost! That Bitch would fly you!"

Sam sighed, exasperated, "I'm just looking into leads, Dean. I'm not hosting a sleepover at the place. Besides, I'm feeling much better! There's no blood coughing, I swear!"

Dean eyed him skeptically.

"He's right, Dean." John cut in. Dean's head whipped around and he stared at his dad incredulously. "You're backing him up on this?"

"Sam can handle his own, Dean." John said, and added with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "Like he did all those times as teenager."

Sam barely managed not to let his face slip into a bitchface.

"He won't be in this alone." Cas added. John turned to look at Cas. It was pretty clear Cas' help didn't add much to Sam's case in John's eyes.

Dean however, slumped in defeat, only to turn hard eyes on them both.

"Okay. But you look out for each other. I swear, if one of you ends up here with us sorry saps, I swear I'm gonna kill you both!"

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, obviously considering how serious Dean was being. Sam just rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, Cas, we've got work to do."

* * *

The nurse at the Philadelphia mental clinic didn't seem surprised at all as Sam and Cas flashed their badges.

"You're lucky," he said, "today she's having a good day."

Sam just nodded and they followed the scrawny guy to the room of Sabrina Schneider.

Sabrina was a tall woman, but she was frail, sitting hunched on her bed with haunted eyes. Red curls framed her freckled face and her big, green doe eyes. There were some colorful chalks laying on her nightstand. The whole room was covered in big, beautiful butterflies, in sharp contrast to her dull eyes.

"Miss Sabrina Schneider?" Sam asked, trying to meet her gaze.

She jerked her head back and forth, finally looking in Sam's direction - but not quite at Sam. Sam hunkered down to get to eye level with her.

"Sabrina?" Sam tried again, "I'm Agent Wylde, this is Agent Moscone. We're with the FBI. Can you answer some questions for us?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly. Her eyes were now fixed on Sam's shoulder.

"Okay," Sam said, relieved that he got an answer out of her.

"Can you tell me your daughter's name?"

She stared at his shoulder.

"Mary Ann?" Sam tried, "Do you remember her?"

"Mary?" She asked, her big eyes lighting up in recognition. She looked at Sam, but only for a moment. "Mary... she loved the butterfly song. She sang it all the time. She sang it... when she was hurt."

"Was hurt?" Sam prompted, "How was Mary hurt?"

"Bruises... on her arms..." she stuttered, "the man... he did it to her". A single tear run down her cheek. Her gaze turned down to the floor.

"Which man?" Sam pressed.

"He was coming..." she murmured, her eyes boring into nothing on the floor, "coming for her..."

Sam watched her for a moment, considering. She seemed closed off again, barely registering there was someone here with her.

"Sabrina?" Sam asked, gently, "do you remember what happened?"

Sabrina started singing quietly. Her voice broke on every other word, more tears sliding down her cheeks. Both Sam and Castiel recognised the song.

"Sam," Castiel said and nodded to the door. Sam stood up and they left the room.

Sam stopped as they passed the nurse.

"Is she always like this?"

The nurse shrugged. "More or less. The cops tried to talk to her before, but it doesn't help. Some days she just sits and hums all day."

"Okay," Sam pulled out a card and handed it to the guy, "if anything changes in the next few days, call me."

* * *

"I'm not sure it's her," Sam pondered as they left the building. "How would she even do it? She must be a psychic or something."

"I don't think she was talking about Mary," Castiel answered, "but it's possible she's the culprit, without even meaning to."

"And how would she do that?"

"There are several possibilities." Cas answered, "as you said, a psychic or a witch would have the power to reach out in her dreams unconsciously. It is also possible, but improbable that she was meant to die and her soul is not fully attached to her conscious, trapped between the planes."

Sam looked at Cas, considering, then he took out a tablet from his jacket and fired it up. Charlie sent him all the case files she could find. Of course there were bruises on the arms of the dead girls body.

"We have to visit the coroner." Sam said. They started walking.

"If I still had my powers, this case would already be solved," Castiel murmured absently.

Sam's head snapped around to him. "Yeah, it would." he said, his forehead wrinkled in concern. Part of him wanted to add something comforting, but he didn't have the highest track record in comforting Cas. Somehow, he always ended up upsetting the guy. It was better to leave that to Dean.

* * *

A quick visit at the morgue confirmed the suspicion they already had. Mary Ann had been healthy as can be, before the fall. No old fractures, bruises or anything that could hint at child abuse. Sam left the morgue with a frown plastered all over his forehead. He still wasn't able to connect all the pieces, but he knew this puzzle wouldn't contain a nice picture.

It was already past lunchtime and they decided to bring the hospital bound father-son pair something edible for lunch.

"So?" prompted Dean eagerly as they entered the room. His eyes went wide with joy as Sam dropped a bag of burger and fries in both their laps.

Sam shook his head. "This is getting more and more complicated."

"It's not her?" John asked surprised.

"It's still possible," Sam answered, "but we need to find that guy involved to know for sure. And dig a little more into her past. I'm getting more and more the feeling we've just scratched the surface of this case."

"What do you mean?" John said.

"The mother has been abused in her childhood," Cas stated bluntly. "We have reason to believe she's the victim, not the doer."

"Dean," Sam asked, "Are you sure the child you saw had brown hair? Could it have been red?"

Dean shrugged, still wrestling more or less one-handed with the contents of his fastfood bag.

"You know ghosts, Sammy. They're not exactly colorful an' cheery."

Sam started up the tablet again and pulled up a picture of adult Sabrina Schneider to show Dean. Dean just shrugged again.

"Could be."

"Very helpful, Dean." Sam commented as he stashed the tablet again.

"So what now?" Dean asked.

"Simple," John said, "dig into her past, find that guy, find the doer."

* * *

**A/N**

**Possible trigger warning:** Mentions of child abuse in this chapter and the next few.

Big thanks to all my readers for your continued support. You keep giving me the motivation to stay on track with this story. For now I'm concentrating on the current case, but rest assured, there'll be enough John/Everyone tension to come ;)


	10. Chapter 10

Sam and Cas stayed a little longer at the hospital, Sam doing some research on his tablet, while Cas was moping about his inability to heal Dean. He was sitting next to Dean's bed, staring at the cast with a look like the cast personally offended him. After a while, even Dean couldn't take it anymore and dropped his hurt diva act in favor of playing it down.

"Hey, it's not so bad," Dean said and pushed Cas playfully. "Bones 'll break, bones 'll heal. Just part of being human."

"Not a preferable part," Cas deadpanned.

John snorted and climbed out of bed. He was getting sick of laying around. Taking his IV with him, he started for the door. Sam looked up from his tablet.

"Hey Dad, were you're going?"

"Just out for coffee," John grumbled, "I'm getting sick of these walls."

Dean continued acting normal until John was out of earshot, before turning to Sam.

"Who's taking care of Crowley?" Dean asked aggressively.

"Kevin." Sam answered and sighed, getting ready for the shitstorm he was about to endure.

"Kevin? You left Crowley alone with Kevin?" Dean asked, incredulously. "Haven't you screwed Kevin enough already?"

"Who else could I have asked?" Sam returned the question.

"I don't know! Garth, maybe! Anyone else would be better!" Dean exclaimed.

"You know we have to be careful about the bunker," Sam explained, "The only other two people who already know about it are Charlie and Kevin. We all agreed not to drag Charlie any deeper into everything than she is already, that leaves Kevin."

Dean shifted from one ass cheek to the other, uncomfortably. "But Kevin, you gotta know that's just wrong. Crowley tortured the kid."

"And what should I have done? Not come here, after my brother and my dad jumped out of a friggin' window?"

"We're okay now, you can go back."

"Okay? Dean, right now I'm in a much better hunting condition than you are. I'm just coughing a little, and it's not even bloody anymore. You've got your arm busted. And Dad's also not at the top of his game!"

Sam stared at his brother for a minute, seeing the hard line of Dean's jaw that always was a tell. Dean knew Sam had a point, but just didn't like it. But the next moment, John came back, looking annoyed about the IV he was dragging along.

"Find anything?" he asked and went to sit next to Sam.

"Dad? You should stay in bed," Sam suggested carefully. John just snorted.

"Show me what you have."

Sam sighed, and showed John the few pointers he found, but nothing looked very promising.

* * *

Sam and Cas spent the rest of the day chasing after people who knew Sabrina Schneider. Sabrina seemed to be a good mother, loving, but there were also many rumors about her. All agreed that she was very poor, barely surviving with the little bit of income she had. Her landlord claimed she always had men up in her apartment for reasons, but a neighbor claimed she had given up on men completely. And then, there was also the thing about the black guy who reported the "accident", but was never identified.

After this long, tiresome and unsuccessful day, they ended up in the hospital again. Sam and Cas managed to sneak past the nurses, so they were able to sit with John and Dean way past visiting hours.

"We're still not sure what happened," Sam said, rubbing his hand tired over his face. "Nobody really knew her. This whole story is screwy in more ways than one."

"But you're relatively sure Sabrina is the ghost," John asked.

"Well... that's the theory right now."

John crossed his arms. "If she's the doer, we have to kill her. We don't find better proof, I'm gonna kill her anyway. We have to make sure she hurts no one else."

"The way it is now, I'm pretty sure we would create a ghost if we kill her." Sam argued, "She's not, exactly, at peace."

"We'll burn her body, obviously," John replied, "It seems we'd do her a favor anyway."

"We have to make sure it's really her," Dean insisted, "I'm all for ganking monsters, but I ain't killing a loony mom on a maybe!"

"Tomorrow we get discharged from the hospital," John said. "Two of us can go to the flat, while the other two watch the mom. If she seems out of it while we notice a presence, we know what's happening."

"That's a bad idea," Sam said, "I'm sure the doctors said you two need to take it easy for a few days. There's no way Dean can take on a powerful ghost or wrestle with a maniac psychic with a cast on his hand. And you're also not exactly up to your game."

"We could do something else," Dean suggested, "We had a case similar to this a while ago. The loony toons, remember? Sam, you said Cas took you into Fred's head and you managed to snap him out of it."

"Karl, the psychokinetic?" John inquired. Sam nodded in affirmation.

"I can't do that anymore, Dean." Cas protested.

"You don't have to. We're using the dream root!" Dean exclaimed, grinning pleased with himself for finding a solution. "Case solved, and we don't have to gank the whackjob mum."

The others considered it for a moment, before nodding consent.

* * *

Kevin stood over Crowley, his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he looked down at the King of hell.

"You don't deserve this," he said, raising his hand with Crowley's meal a little.

"Kevin! Kev..." Crowley begged, "It was never personal! I swear!"

"It sure was for me." Kevin spat.

"I'm a different man now," Crowley insisted, raising his hands theatrically "I _am _a man now!"

Kevin just snorted, before he slowly turned the bowl in his hand. Crowley's eyes followed the food, as it spilled over the edge of the bowl and landed in a puddle in front of his knees.

"If you're really a _man_," Kevin said, "then prove it. If you're really hungry, you won't care if your food is on the floor."

"Kevin," Crowley said, looking up with puppy-dog eyes, "you're better than this. You were always better than me and my demon army."

"I was," Kevin replied, "until you came and killed my mom!"

Crowley didn't reply to that. He hung his head down in shame.

For good measure, Kevin spat on the food on the floor once, before leaving Crowley to it.

* * *

Dean and John were released from the hospital the next day. Both were relieved to get out. There was something that hunters just didn't like about hospitals.

Dean, of course, aimed right for the drivers seat of the impala before remembering his cast and swearing under his breath. John took the keys and Dean walked around to flop into the shotgun seat.

"At least I'm walking this time," Dean grumbled, but he didn't seem very happy about his predicament.

Back at the motel, Sam said "There's only enough left for two cups. Who's going?"

"I am," John decided.

"No offence, Dad, but Dean and I've done this already. We should send someone who has experience with this." Sam replied.

"Dean and I are going," John said, "We have some sort of connection to her. We'll have a better chance to reach her than you do."

"He's right, Sam," Dean said, "you're just a random dude. Whatever it was, she saw something in dad and me."

"That also makes it more dangerous for you," Sam argued.

"Sam is right," Cas added, "For a human, entering the mind of a psychic is extremely dangerous. She will be able to affect you in ways that might not been undone. You could die, or worse."

"We have to do it," Dean insisted. Cas stared right at Dean.

"I don't think you understand," Cas said, his gravel voice solemn. "She identifies with you. It would even be possible that she overrides your own memories."

"I don't care if it's dangerous," John said. His voice was quieter and earnest as he continued speaking. "I don't want to kill this woman any more than any of you do. If we have a shot here, I'm going to take it."

The others were silent for a moment. Sam noticed concerned that Dean looked at his dad with nothing short of awe. Things like this were the reason for Dean's faith in the man.

"Fine, whatever" Sam sighed. Cas eyes snapped from one person to the next, concerned.

"If anyone enters her dream, it should be me," he continued to argue, "I have the highest chance of all of us to get through this."

"It's decided." John declared, not even bothering to argue with Cas. "Dean and I are going."

Dean looked over at Cas and gave a little, apologetic shrug. Cas just sighed in defeat as he looked back at Dean with worry.

Sam prepared the two cups of dreamroot tee. John and Dean sat down on their beds, and Cas continued to hover next to Dean, as if his proximity could somehow protect Dean in Sabrina's dream. Or so it seemed. Sam finally dropped the strands of Sabrina's hair in the two cups of tea. He gave one to John, who downed it immediately, before he turned to Dean. But before Dean even had the chance to do anything, Cas had shot up, snatched the cup out of Sam's hand and downed the whole thing.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, but Cas didn't hear him anymore. He collapsed right onto Dean, who barely managed to catch him. Dean took care to lay Cas onto the bed in a comfortable position, but it was awkward with the cast.

"Dad's gonna rip his throat out," Dean said.

Sam crossed his arms and wrinkled his forehead in concern. "We'll have to wait it out."

* * *

**A/N **

Sorry for the longer wait this time, folks. I was on a long larp last week, after that my head needed a few days to come back to the real world ;) I will have a lot of work in the next months, but I'll do my best to keep the schedule and update at least every second week. Thanks to everyone who reviewed/faved/followed the last chapter! I hope I didn't forget to reply to someone... larp preparations are always chaotic ;) Continue to be awesome, my dear readers! For Moondor! *cough... actually I was an elf... life is weird when your shadow suddenly doesn't sport long ears anymore...*


	11. Chapter 11

John found himself in a children's room at night. A red-haired girl was sleeping in the bed. The walls were decorated with a child's butterfly paintings, and there were dolls in pink dresses laying around on the floor. The girl seemed peaceful, in her sleep. She was clutching tightly to a stuffed unicorn doll.

John felt the air around him shift and he turned to greet his son. Except, it wasn't his son. Standing next to him was Castiel, wearing his tan trench coat over a suit and a backwards blue tie.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, keeping his voice down not to wake the girl.

"I had to come," Cas replied evenly, not even looking at John. He was taking in the room with narrowed eyes.

John was not amused, to say the least.

"I don't know who you think you are," John grumbled, "and I don't know what Dean sees in you. But if you can't follow our lead I'm done hunting with you."

"I'm done taking orders," Castiel growled with surprising fierceness. His head snapped around to stare at John angrily, before he said solemnly "I'm here to protect you. Dean would be devastated if he were to loose you again."

"Protect me?" John exclaimed, his hackles raising. "I don't need your help from anybody, and my sons sure don't too! You should go and screw yourself before I decide it's better to get rid of you!"

John's voice was so loud now it was a miracle the sleeping girl didn't wake up. Cas squinted at him, silent for a moment, before he spoke up again.

"I wasn't allowed to help back then."

Irritated, John crossed his arms.

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"When Dean and Sam were kids. After you lost Mary. I wish I... I wish I could heave helped," Cas said, tilting his head a little. "I was under strict orders not to interfere."

And for a moment, John didn't know what to do with that. He had always firmly believed there was no one listening. That there was no one there. And not only was this guy now with them - this guy who claimed to have been an angel - he even claimed that he _heard_. And... did _nothing._ He just listened to his desperate prayers for help and ignored them. And even before that - he did nothing to save Mary. To save Sammy from his fate.

John's anger flared up white hot, all his rage bubbling up. His rage born by the loss of his loved wife, by the desperation and helplessness of the situation he had to raise his kids in. Born by the feeling of being utterly defenseless against the unstoppable force of this demon. His desperation of being stuck in an impossible situation with two young boys to protect.

His fist flew and he punched Cas right in the face, but his hand collided with a solid wall and the dude didn't even blink.

"Do you feel better now?" Cas asked, and it didn't even sound sarcastic. The guy squinted at him like he was seriously trying to figure out if punching a brick wall was making him feel better.

"You son of a bitch," John growled, covering his hurting hand with his other.

"We're in a dream," Cas explained, his voice completely calm. "A dreamwalker can do, or be, anything he wants."

Cas reached forward and covered John's hand gently with his own. A sliver or white light emerged under his hand and suddenly the pain was gone. Cas looked a little forlorn down at their hands as he removed his.

"I wish I could heal Dean's hand just as easily," he murmured. John narrowed his eyes at him. Then he brushed past Cas.

"We're here for a reason," he said and started to examine the room a little more closely.

The room felt extremely real, but it also wasn't quite there - objects moved, appeared and faded, one time the girl looked smaller, one time she looked adolescent. Cas moved to her when she was looking like a five year old child and gently covered her forehead with his hand.

"Show us." he said gently.

The door to her room opened, and in came a man. Cas took a step back from the bed. Her father, John and Cas knew instinctively. The man smiled gently at her, sat down and tenderly moved a strand of hair out of her face. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, her nose, and then... her mouth.

The scene shifted before John had a chance to beat the ever living shit out of Dreamdad.

* * *

The next thing they saw was Sabrina again - now a little older. She was sitting in a park, tugging on her long sleeves to cover the bruises on her arms. Another girl sat down next to Sabrina and playfully punched her in the arm. Sabrina flinched, which made the other girl worry.

"What's wrong, are you hurt?" the girl asked.

"It's nothing," Sabrina answered, her face frightened. "I fell down the stairs. Please don't tell anyone. Dad said I'm not supposed to tell anyone!"

"Okay, okay," the other girl reassured her. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

John's jaw tightened in anger. He used to hunt monsters, but he sure as hell would make an exception for this guy. Castiel was still standing next to him, his expression unreadable.

The next scene was less vivid. The dreamscape didn't fully form into a place. It was foggy and less vivid with the colors and shapes. But the pure desperation that hit both was clear as day. And suddenly, John was back in Sabrina's mind. He felt her pure horror, her pure desperation. He didn't see the forms, the faces of those close to her - but he knew instinctively who she was dreaming about.

She had been trapped in a situation with absolutely no hope to escape. She had been abused and beaten to within an inch of her life, and the only thing not yet taken from her was her life and her kid. And now... there was another man. A man who sat down in front of her daughter and moved a strand of hair from her face. Who kissed her on the forehead, on the cheek, and... she lost it.

She fought back. She took the nearest object she could find and hurled it at the guy. But as he left, he threatened her that he'd come back. That he'd be back for her daughter. That he'd come when she'd least expect it. And that she could do nothing to protect her.

And desperation settled. This guy - whoever he was - he had some kind of leverage over her. Some kind of power that made her utterly defenseless.

And John could so relate to that. He'd lost everything. Absolutely everything but his two boys. He could see yellow eyes grinning at him in vivid colors, as he turned to leave Sam's nursery.

"I'll be back for the boy," yellow eyes said, and it stabbed John in his very core.

John knew of nothing he could possibly do to protect his son. So he started driving and searching, desperately holding onto anything that could get him some kind of leverage against yellow eyes. He started to lash out against anything that was even remotely threatening to his boys. He needed to stay in control of the situation, he got obsessed with watching his boys, making sure they didn't get hurt.

He knew that somewhere along the way, he started being to hard to his boys. And he hated it. But there was no choice - somewhere along the way, he realized he wasn't going to survive this gig. He had to train Sam and Dean so they would be able to protect themselves. And he hated it.

And than he was standing in an abandoned apartment, with Dean next to him. And there was yellow eyes coming from another room, grinning maleficent at him. And there was nothing he could do. No colt, no way to fight, nothing. Dean was entirely at the mercy of the demon. So he did the only thing he could possibly do to save Dean. There was really no other way. Any fate was better than getting into the hands of this demon - even death.

So he started for the window.

"Stop!" a gravelly voice exclaimed and gripped his arm tightly. "Stop reshaping Sabrina's dream." Castiel ordered, "You created Azazel. You need to undo him!"

"Cas?" Dream-Dean croaked, recognizing his friend. Cas, knowing it wasn't really Dean, ignored the younger hunter and gripped even more tightly onto John's arm.

"There is no Azazel. He was defeated. Dean killed him, remember."

Yellow eyes came nearer, obviously enjoying the terror of both Winchesters. But John couldn't jump, Cas held on to tightly. Dean was curled to a small ball on the floor whimpering in pure terror, clutching onto his father's hand. Castiel held up his other hand, white light emitting from it, but it didn't slow down Azazel. Of course it didn't. John didn't trust Cas. And his projection was just as strong as his terror.

Cas changed his tactic and now pressed two fingers against John's forehead. Images of Azazel's death flooded his mind. In front of them, Azazel faded completely and the empty room changed entirely.

"Stay calm." Castiel advised. "If we want to help Sabrina, she must be in control of her own fate."

And that made sense, really. What she needed, was control.

"Let Dean go." Cas said gently. John looked to his left, where Dean was still sitting, shaking like a leaf and looking up at him with terrified eyes.

"It's not really him." Cas added.

It was one of the hardest things ever asked of John. His mind held onto Dean so strongly, his sense and need to protect overpowering any logic.

John blinked. And flinched. Suddenly, there was Sabrina standing right in front of him, her eyes big and full of angst.

"Are you responsible?" John asked, and Sabrina flinched back immediately at the harsh sounds of his words. Sabrina was gone again.

Thunder broke on top of them, and they were both standing on soft moss. Warm rain poured down on their shoulders, and the wood around them smelled richly of pine tree, moss and nature. This image was so bright and vivid in the colors, they both took a moment to look around.

"This is a beautiful place." Cas said, taking a few steps around. His hair and coat managed miraculously to stay pristine while John's own hair was soaked within seconds.

"I wanna go home, mommy!" said a little girl. This time, it was Mary Ann. She stood with her mother in shelter of a large rock formation. Sabrina hugged her daughter close.

"Don't worry, we're safe out here." she said, and her smile was one of utter happiness and carelessness. Out here, far gone from any civilisation, there was nothing to fear.

"One day we're gonna build a cabin and move out here," Sabrina said happily. "What do you think of that, honey?"

"But it's wet!" Mary Ann protested.

"Only when it rains," Sabrina replied, her smile brilliant. "When the sun shines, the birds will chirp and the butterflys will be everywhere. You like to watch them, don't you?"

"I'd love that, mom!" Mary Ann exclaimed, smiling up at her mom.

"I'm sure the rain stops soon," Sabrina continued, "Then we can go down to the creek and watch the fishies."

"How much longer?" Mary Ann asked, exited.

"I don't know," Sabrina said, her eyes turning up to the sky. "Not long, I'm sure."

Then the dream shifted again.

They were back in the flat, but now it looked exactly how it had that fateful night. John had no idea how he knew that, but he just did. Sabrina was laying in her daughters bed, her arms slung tightly around Mary Ann. She looked frightened, and John could feel how terrified she was. And he knew the reason.

There was a noise. The door opened, a pair of feet walked in. Sabrina shot up, clutching her child tightly to herself. And suddenly John was not John anymore. He was seeing and feeling everything through her eyes.

The man was coming for her. There was no where she could go except - flee out of the window. She kissed her girl on the head.

"Sing the butterfly song for me, please." She said, trying to calm down her child.

But the girl clutched onto her instead and said "Sabrina. Look - really look."

And John knew it was Cas. Part of him still saw the little girl, but he also saw Cas.

Trembling, Sabrina set the first foot out of the window, but thanks to Cas beckoning, she stayed. John could feel his influence, strong and otherworldly, yet calming.

Through the door, a black man walked. "Hi Sabrina," he said warmly, "I brought some leftover Pizza for Mary Ann."

Sabrina just stared, gobsmacked.

The scene shifted again, but nothing manifested itself. Emptiness seemed to encompass everything. Loss. Loss of the one and only thing dear.

And for what?

There had been no threat.

The sense of loss seemed so overbearing it was mind-blogging. She could not handle it. She could not accept it.

And then there was nothing.

John opened his eyes, and he took in the cracked ceiling of a hotel room.

* * *

**A/N**

Super fast update surprises even myself... I had a writing spree last weekend :) Writing John and Cas might be my new favorite thing. I just love their constant battle of bad-assery. It's so much fun. Thanks for the reviews of last chapter! And this time, I'm extra curious about what you think. I don't like how most dreams are portrayed in TV and film, they're just too vivid and real... My dreams are always a crazy foggy mashup, but they still feel totally real. So I'm really super-curious what you think of the dreamscape of this chapter. Tell me what you think :)


	12. Chapter 12

Cas was confused and groggy as he woke up. His body hadn't been able to fall into a proper, deep sleep even once since he fell. And now it was reluctant to wake up. Cas just blearily recognized Dean sitting at the edge of his bed, and a thought worked it's way up to his consciousness.

"You're watching over my sleep." he said contently.

Dean's head snapped around and he looked at Cas with his eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Of course we're watching freaking dreamwalkers!" Dean snapped a little more harshly than necessary. Cas smiled at him. "What was that, Cas?"

"I believe you know." Cas deadpanned.

John also woke up and sat up. Surprised, he touched his rips where he had had a nasty bruise and discovered that it didn't hurt anymore. Irritated, he glanced at Cas, who was in a staring contest with his son. Sam was almost immediately up in John's space, holding a tissue out to him, looking concerned. John looked confused at the tissue before he noticed the wet streaks on his cheeks.

"So?" Sam prodded, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"We have to kill her," John said matter of factly, wiping of the wet streaks with his sleeve instead of Sam's tissue. Sam drew back the tissue and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Dean and Sam stared at him, disappointed. "It didn't work?" Sam inquired.

"We managed to snap her out of it." John said, "But it doesn't matter."

"Her soul is too damaged." Cas said. He was sitting up, fully conscious now. His hair was sticking up at weird angles, but Cas made no attempt to smooth it down. "She's not able to accept the fact that she killed her daughter in vain. It was only the pizzaman."

Dean made a face. "Wow, Cas, that's kinky alright."

Cas looked at Dean exasperated. "He was bringing leftovers."

"They always do," Dean commented.

"Dean, gross! There's a little girl involved!" Sam protested. John just looked from one son to the other, suspecting there must be some story behind this.

"Okay," Sam said, "We know for sure Sabrina is the source. Do we know for sure that she's psychic, or psychokinetic? Could there be anything else that lends her the power?"

"She could be a friggin' witch," Dean murmured. "Please don't be a friggin' witch."

"We know for sure," Cas asserted. "I compelled her to heal John's body. She did it with her own power."

Cas smiled at Dean sadly. "I'm sorry Dean, but I couldn't reach you."

"She can do that?" Dean asked surprised, "She must be a friggin' Jean Gray, that's what she is."

"A dreamwalker can do more than just kill." Cas stated.

John looked over at Cas thoughtfully, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Okay," Sam stated, pacing thoughtfully, "Maybe we should drive back to the bunker. See if there is a way to depower her."

"We don't have the time." John said.

"Why not?" Dean asked. "She killed only once in five years. I don't like it either, but the odds are in our favor for once."

"Check your research, boy," John said, and Dean flinched a little at his dad's disapproving tone. "She killed only once since there was only one child living in the flat all five years. And I know that a small family is going to move in by the end of the week."

"Crap," Sam muttered. The brothers were silent for a moment.

"So there's... no other way?" Sam prodded carefully, "We have to kill her now?"

"Yes," John answered simply. "Dean, ready everything to leave. We won't have much time after this is done."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied despite himself. Sam flinched inwardly at the old phrase.

"Sam, you come with me," John said, and he was already standing up and leaving. Sam heaved a sigh and followed him.

* * *

John was leading Sam to a storage unit first. "Huh, didn't know you had storage here," Sam said. Then he smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised."

"Yeah," John replied. He picked up a large metal case, ignoring everything else. Sam looked around. He couldn't tell what was stashed in the large amount of boxes standing around everywhere, but it all looked pretty innocent considering the storage habits of their father. Except for the weaponry, of course. The weaponry looked very army-style, battle rifles, and there was even what looked like an old combat suit rolled to a bundle laying on one of the shelves. The case John picked up also looked like it came right out of the marines armory.

"How come you never mentioned this one in your journal?" Sam asked. He was pretty sure he'd remember if there was a note somewhere in the journal. After all, he and Dean both had read the thing over and over again.

"This one is from the early days." John answered. "When I just started hunting, I needed some gear, so I asked old comrades. Turns out, we weren't shooting men back there. Not only, anyways."

Sam's eyebrows hit his hairline. "So what, you're saying there's a whole branch of hunters in the military? How come we never heard about them?"

"Yes, there are a few, but they don't do well with other hunters," John answered, "I talked to a couple of them and left. They knew almost nothing about demons."

John heaved the case into the trunk of the impala and they drove on to their mission.

* * *

"How is he expecting me to pack up?" Dean groused, fiddling clothes into an open duffle bag with his left hand.

"Maybe you should have asked that question before giving your consent," Cas said.

"Not helping, Cas."

"I believe I am," Cas replied, taking Dean too literally once more. Castiel was currently removing the salt lines meticulously.

Dean just huffed and got more agitated with every item. It wasn't that his hand was totally useless - but he could forget about everything that required fine motor skills. He'd probably write like a first grader if he attempted it. And he just wasn't used to doing stuff with his left hand.

"Damnit, Cas, you don't need to count every grain of salt!" Dean griped, "You're not suddenly a fairy, are you?"

"There's no need for harshness," Cas replied, scrutinizing the window sill one last time before throwing away the salt he collected.

"Just come over here and help me," Dean sighed. Cas went over wordlessly, took the clothes and put them away swiftly.

"That was the last?" Cas asked, surveying the room a last time.

"Ya," said Dean and tossed the duffle to the other waiting bags.

* * *

Sam was beginning to have a suspicion when they stopped at a high building and climbed all the way up to the roof. After the whole dreamroot ordeal, it was very early. Sam could see the dawn slowly rising in the far horizon. The view was spectacular, the whole city still sleeping calmly in the moon light. The night was clear, giving him a good view. John walked around the roof once, figuring out the best position. Sam raised his binoculars, peering over at the mental clinic. It took him a while to find the right window, but there she was. Sabrina was laying in her bed, and even from this distance Sam was able to recognize her by her red curls.

Sam's suspicion was confirmed when John opened the case and started to assemble a big ass sniper gun. It was the biggest gun Sam had ever seen in his life, and he had seen pretty many guns in his life.

"You're my spotter," John said, setting up the sniper and peering a first time through the visor. "You know what to do?"

"Let's just go over it once," Sam asked. Of course, John had explained it to him at some time during his childhood, but this wasn't something the Winchester's usually did. They had done all kinds of stuff that would get them locked away for several hundred years and/or chained to the chair, but assassination wasn't on the list of the brothers usual crimes. They liked to handle things up close. But Sam had to admit this was by far the smarter tactic.

Sam listened closely to his fathers explanations, then crouched down next to him. For once, he was a good son, and they went through all the steps necessary to calibrate the weapon. He didn't like it, but he accepted that they had to kill this poor woman. She was like all the poor freshly turned monsters they had to kill. When he looked at his dad, he noticed the hard line of his jaw that twitched the exact same way Dean's did when he didn't like something. And Sam realized that maybe, their father had more compassion than he ever gave him credit for. This woman wasn't just a monster to him. When he was young, he didn't see it. But now, it was obvious. John was keeping up a hard shell just like Dean. Not... dealing.

John finally shot, and the sound left Sam's ears ringing. He looked through the binoculars, confirming that Sabrina was no more. Together, they packed away the gun quickly and hurried down the building, jumping into the impala and driving to get Dean and Cas. This job was done. The officials would incinerate Sabrina's body. Sam didn't like that they couldn't stay to look after the family moving in, just to make sure. But they really had to get the hell out of dodge.

* * *

**A/N**

So! I really hope you liked my little case. And don't worry, this is not the end of this story. Just a chapter. I've got no idea how long I'm gonna continue it, but it's fun so I'll keep writing as long as I'm motivated :)

Honesty time: The whole Sabrina story was totally stolen from "cold case", episode 1.8. I took some liberties, changed names and times, but I really just brushed the surface. Go look at it, it's heartbreaking. Even if you don't like copshows, I also don't like them generally but this one is full of feels.

Thanks everyone to the reviews/follows/faves to last chapter! I just breached the 100 followers, yay! Now, if more of you would review I'd be fucking ecstatic! Hehe. Thanks everyone who reviewed so far, I love you all! *Grouphug*


	13. Chapter 13

The impala felt crowded during the drive back. There was an aura of awkward silence hanging over the car. None of them had liked the case. But it had to be done. The family moving into Sabrina's old apartment was going to be safe. There wasn't even music to distract Dean - his dad turned it off after Sam fell asleep in the backseat, worn out from the long night. Dean was too worked up to find any calm to sleep. And it didn't help that Cas was radiating waves of anxiety from the backseat.

And to make things worse, the drive was much longer on the way back. Between four grown men, a full arsenal in the trunk, four fully loaded duffles, and a big ass heavy as shit sniper gun, even the Impala started to feel the weight and wouldn't go as fast as usual. Not that either Dean or John complained. Baby managed to keep up speed marvelously considering the freight. One of the european junk hulls would be crawling the streets like a snail.

The trip back home was even longer and more uneventful than the drive back. They stayed one night at a typical rundown motel. Sam switched a few times with their dad and drove a few miles. Dean was getting even more angry, he wasn't asked to drive. Stupid cast. The only thing that stood out was Charlies worried call, inquiring about the hunt and then dressing Dean down since he hadn't called her immediately after everything was over. John beside him smiled, happy for his son, while Dean gave her a brief summary.

Finally, they arrived home. It was late, but not really late enough to go to bed, and Dean was left standing in the middle of the library, not knowing what to do with his time, pent up frustration making him agitated. And he couldn't even work it off thanks to his stupid busted hand.

* * *

Sam waited until John settled down with one of the library's books before he snuck deeper into the bunker. John apparently made it his mission to learn as much as he could from the men of letters.

Sam found no trace of Kevin's stay in the spare rooms of the bunker. He sent him a text a little before they got back, but he had hoped to get at least a chance to speak to the boy. Kevin had been extremely pissed when they aborted the trials. Sam had no clue what the little prophet was up to now. Kevin had both tablets and a bad mood.

Sam finally reached room 7b and opened the door. Inside, everything looked like normal, the dungeon hidden behind the shelves as it should be. Silently, Sam closed the door behind him and approached the hidden entrance. A nagging feeling went through him. Dean was right - what, if it had been a bad idea to leave Crowley with Kevin?

Sam hadn't expected the sight before him when he opened the door. Crowley was a mess. He was laying face first in a puddle of disgusting stuff that looked like it might have been food. His eyes were half-closed and there was a tickle of dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

Sam hunched down next to him and felt for pulse.

"Sam?" Crowley croaked, opening his eyes. He lifted his head to see more, but coughed from the strain. Sam heaved him up into a sitting position and examined him further. There were red marks where the demonic handcuffs cut into his wrists and ankles. Crowley's coughs sounded dry and hoarse. He probably hadn't had anything to drink in days. If he was fully human, it was a miracle he was still alive.

"Please, Sam," Crowley croaked, but Sam couldn't understand what came afterward. Crowley's voice was to low.

"I'll be right back!" Sam said, and hurried off to get some water. Crowley coughed again as he left, and Sam was worried. He was so hoping John didn't hear this. He was back pretty fast with a glass of water and helped Crowley drink some.

"Thank you, moose," Crowley muttered and coughed again, sputtering some water on the floor.

"Okay, just wait a minute," Sam said, trying to stabilize Crowley. When Crowley looked like he wouldn't fall over again in a second, Sam took of again. He found a camp bed in one of the supply cabinets a while ago, and he went to get it and set it up in the dungeon, beneath a devils trap. He undid all of Crowley's cuffs except one on his legs and helped Crowley onto the cot. Next, Sam fetched some water and a towel and went to clean Crowley up a bit. Crowley didn't protest and fell to sleep almost immediately.

When Sam was finished cleaning up Crowley and the room, he took a moment to stare at the demon/ex-demon. "Damn," he muttered before he left to tell Dean.

* * *

Dean was flipping through that ancient edition of Busty Asian Beauties when Sam cornered him in his room.

"Dean, we gotta talk," Sam said and closed the door behind him.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Crowley," Sam said.

"What about him?"

"I think... Kevin tortured him."

Dean looked up surprised, "Well... can't say I blame the kid."

The corners of Dean's mouth tugged up a little and Sam knew immediately what Dean was about to say. "Don't say it, Dean."

"Okay, then I won't say I told you so," Dean replied with a self-satisfied smirk.

"He was starved out and totally dehydrated. Dean, he might really be human, or mostly human."

"I'm not taking chances," Dean said. "You know, we should just take the knife and stab him in the neck."

Sam shook his head, "We could use him."

"I don't like it," Dean said and returned to his mag.

Sam turned to leave. He still had no clue what to do with Crowley.

* * *

Dean trailed to the kitchen a little later for some food and a beer. His nerves were still stretched thin, and that wouldn't change for the rest of the day. Cas was already there, nursing one of Sam's freakishly girly herbal teas. And there, he did it again. He looked at Dean's cast with such a mourning look on his face, Dean simply couldn't take it anymore. He grimaced.

"Come on, Cas, it's not like healing me would change anything," he said harshly.

Cas' eyes snapped up to him, and his face completely crumbled. Dean was still amazed how hurt Cas managed to look with so little actual muscle movement. Dean hadn't even been talking about all of Cas' mistakes, but what the hell. Dean was still ticked at Cas for taking off with the Angel tablet. Dean levelled Cas' stare, his lips set in a hard line.

Cas took a step forward, right into Dean's space. Their faces were only inches away, but Dean didn't back away. Cas took on a defiant look.

"Need I to remind you that you broke the first seal, and Sam the second? I've made mistakes, and I regret them," he said icily, "But it's not your right to throw the first stone!"

Despite the angry sound of his words, Cas still looked more hurt than angry. And it hit Dean with a start. Cas had never, not once, begrudged Dean his mistakes. It wasn't about the screw ups, though. Cas didn't trust him, of all people. He bailed on him. And that just simply rubbed Dean wrong in all the right ways. He couldn't help but thinking it might have been something he did, something he said to drive Cas away.

Dean's eyes darkened and they stared angrily at each other for a few moments. Neither said anything. Both felt hurt, misunderstood, alone.

Cas finally turned, casting one more deep look at Dean, and left. He passed John on his way, the other men's eyes trailing after him darkly. Both Dean and Cas had been to invested in themselves to have noticed his arrival. When Cas was gone, John's eyes trailed to Dean. Dean had no idea how much of the fight John heard.

"Why do you keep him here?" John asked. Somehow, he managed to sound gentle and harsh at the same time. It was a tone of voice that nobody mastered as greatly as John Winchester. "Clearly, something isn't right about him."

Dean fought to find the right words.

"He's Cas," he said, looking his dad straight in the eye. John shook his head and sighed exasperated. He just didn't get Dean.

Dean was obviously not in the mood to explain himself. Angrily, he took a bottle of beer out of the fridge, banged the door closed, and left.

* * *

John went to search out Sam. Sam was sitting comfortably at one of the library's tables, flipping through one of the books. There was a painting of the archangel Gabriel on the open page, dressed in a white, flowing gown and with golden curls so long they hung down to his toes.

"Hey Dad," Sam greeted cheerily.

John sat down on the place across from him.

"You know, Gabriel actually looks nothing like this," Sam said, gesturing at the painting. John was still taken aback about how much his sons knew about the heavenly host. He didn't even knew they existed.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Sam nodded, "His vessel was a guy, short stop, hair about as long as mine." Sam made a short pause. "He's dead," he added with a little sadness in his voice, "He was one of the good guys."

John just listened. He was still trying to sort through all the informations his boys gave him randomly. Gabriel had been mentioned, and the boys seemed to be biased about him. Sometimes he got the vibes that they really hated him - especially from Sam - but sometimes, it seemed like he had been their best friend. Whatever, he was dead now.

"Sam, I actually came to talk to you about something," he said. Sam looked up from his book, eyebrows arched curiously.

"Yeah?"

John crossed his arms on the table in front of him. "What's the deal with Dean and Cas?"

Sam looked thoughtful. "You want the long version or the short one?"

"I don't need all the details, I just want to get what's up with Dean."

Sam pursed his lips, thinking.

"Yeah, well..." he started, but didn't continue immediately. How should he put it so that his dad didn't get angry? Cas was family to them, but would John understand?

"I think Dean loves him," Sam said simply.

"Excuse me?" John asked incredulously, leaning forward.

"You know, like a friend. His best friend. Remember these stories you used to tell us about old army friends? The ones who died at your side? Cas is like that."

John leaned back again, thinking about the answer.

"Dean is right about you," he finally said. "sometimes, you really talk like a girl."

There was a pause, before John asked "How long have you known him?"

"Five years, now," Sam answered, "He was through a lot of shit with us."

John nodded. Sam looked at him, but it was impossible to read what went on in his fathers head. John looked thoughtful. Sam could only hope John would get it one day.

* * *

**A/N**

I'm so sorry for the long wait! I had a lot of ideas for when they are back in the bunker, but I just didn't know where to start... But now season 9 is nearing and I'm getting more and more exited! I've made it through the hiatus on a semi-frequent basis, so I'm sure I'll be able to update more frequently when I'm in full-on season 9 fangirl mode! Who else is getting exited about season 9? ALL THE FEELS! I saw the trailer and the sneak peak/promo and I just... kinda... imploded in my seat... it's going to be sooo awesome!

Thanks for being awesome, (reviews!) guys, as always, I'm exited to hear from you! And if anyone is interested - I've kinda got a mood vid for this story. I've watched it a couple of (hundreds of) times now to get into the mood of the story. Search youtube for "Dean/Cas no light" by TheSerialLove. It's a Destiel vid, but I also watch a John/Dean vid to get in the mood, altough I would never ship them, so it' not a hint at all ;) (I would link it, stupid FF policies...)


	14. Chapter 14

Sleep was hell. First, he turned and tossed in his bed, waiting for sleep to finally hit - but it didn't come. His eyes were heavy, his thoughts slow and inconclusive, his whole body felt like a sand sack with no ounce of energy in all of his long limbs. He felt tired to the point that it seemed impossible that he was still awake. But sleep still eluded him and he was angry. Angry, that he couldn't sleep. Angry, that Dean was angry at him. Angry about himself for all his screw ups. Angry about his body without power. His mind was trapped in this deflated body, to tired to form even a single coherent thought. He never felt so small, so vulnerable. Maybe, this was his ultimate penance. He lost everything. And he felt like he was losing Dean too. He'd obviously done to much. To all the world, Dean acted like he still liked him. But inside, he was dead and cold. He turned another time, trying desperately to fetch sleep. But it wouldn't come. Finally, after all this time, he understood the very human term of crying to sleep. Maybe he should try that.

After what felt like hours of restlessness, he woke with a start, shaken and sweaty from a nightmare. He didn't even remember what he dreamed about, only that it was terrifying. But did he really sleep? His body sure didn't feel like it. If anything, it was even heavier than before. Did he fall into a coma for a while? Was it even possible to dream in a coma? His pillow was damp. Did he sweat? Or did he cry? It didn't matter. His brain was still foggy, tired, strained. He needed sleep. He hated sleep.

It wouldn't come.

* * *

Sleep was weird. John had the weirdest dream. There was Mary - and she was talking to him about Castiel. How did she even knew the guy? They were strolling through their neighborhood in Lawrence, him aged with the years, she still young and gorgeous. But that wasn't weird at all. But what she said... it just made no sense. Why would she say such things?

"Naomi is after him," Mary said with urgency in her tone, "His very essence was one of the ingredients for the spell. She is working on a way to undo it, and she needs Cas for it."

"Mary," John said, and he stared deeply into her eyes. Tenderly, he grabbed her hands and squeezed them a little.

"After all this years," he said, his lips starting to wobble a little, "I tried to find you, I really did."

Mary's gaze softened and she caressed his cheek with one hand. "I know, John," she said softly. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry about?" John asked, but Mary didn't answer. She looked sad now, averting her gaze for a moment before she looked back up at him.

"John, please try to remember what I said. You need to protect Cas."

"Why should I care about Cas?", John exclaimed, "Mary, I need you!"

"Do it for Dean," she said, even more sadness in her eyes. Then she was fading. The dream was fading. He sat up, and realized this weird talk was just a dream. But it felt so real - so incredibly real. Yet, thinking about it, it was clear that it had been a ton of bullshit, thought up by his own unconsciousness.

* * *

Sleep was sweet. Dean woke up slowly, marvelling in the wonders that were memory foam. He turned on his back, and for a moment he kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed the perfect feeling of a well rested night in a perfect bed, in a place where he could finally feel save. A place he could call home. A place where he dared not to sleep fully clothed. His lips tugged up in a satisfied smile.

Nights like this didn't happen often, but they happened more and more often now that they had a place to stay. Sadly, the peace didn't last long, and his body reminded him of the reason he woke up. He really needed to pee. With a grunt, he opened his eyes and sat up, only to come face to face with a dark mob of hair.

"Cas?" he exclaimed, bathroom needs momentarily forgotten.

"Good morning, Dean," Cas said, his voice sounding even deeper and heavier than usual.

"Cas, that's creepy! You gotta stop doing that!" Dean complained.

"My apologies," Cas said, sounding like Dean had slapped him in the face. Dean blinked, and looked at his friend properly. Cas looked awful. His hair was a mess - well, that wasn't unusual - but it was the rest. Cas eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his face was pale, and the lines in his face seemed to be deeper than usual. He looked like he didn't have a single minute of sleep, or like he cried the whole night. Or maybe both.

Cas stood up to leave, his shoulders sagging.

"Cas, wait!" Dean exclaimed, concerned, "What's up?"

Cas turned back, not quite looking Dean in the eye. He didn't say anything. Dean stood up and stepped close to Cas, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Cas, man, talk to me," Dean said, searching Cas's eyes.

Cas eyes flickered up to his briefly, but turned down again, like he was ashamed.

"I can't sleep," he admitted.

"Like, at all?" Dean asked, sceptically.

Cas didn't reply, his eyes trailing on the floor like it could offer him some kind of answer. Dean watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of the other man.

"Forget it, Dean, it's nothing," Cas finally said, turning to leave, "I shouldn't have bothered you."

Cas took the bottle of whiskey from the nightstand that Dean had long forgotten being there. And with that, all of Dean's alarm bells went of ringing loudly. Cas in front of him was suddenly wearing a light blue tunic, stubble that was more than a few days worth, and a mad, drugged up giggle. And yeah, guess what? Where did Cas learn this sort of behaviour?

"Cas, wait a moment!" Dean said urgently, gabbing Cas hard by the shoulder and yanking away the bottle. And damn his bladder, it reminded him that moment that he really, really needed to pee.

Dean dragged Cas back to the bed and pushed him down onto it. "Just wait here for a second, okay?"

Cas finally looked up at him, and that moment it seemed like he was holding onto Dean like a lifeline. Dean really hated his bladder at that moment.

"Just wait here!" Dean repeated, "I just... uh... need to pee."

Wow, Dean, way to make the guy think you're caring. To hell with his bladder. But Cas settled on the bed like he was willing to wait decades on Dean's return.

Dean practically raced down the hallway to the toilets, and had an idea. He didn't bother loosing any precious time so he just dialed while stepping in front of the toilet.

"Hey Charlie!"

"Hey Dean! Wassup?" Charlie asked excitedly. Dean didn't get how she was always so happy to talk to him. He knew he wasn't that great of a person.

"Charlie, I need your help. You know of anything to help a dude sleep?"

"Oh no, don't tell me you're having nightmares again!" Charlie fussed.

"No, it's not me," Dean said defensively, "I deal with my shit."

"Dean, drinking a whole bottle of whisky before going to bed is not dealing with shit!" Charlie protested.

"How... why do you think that?" Dean replied flustered.

"I've read the book, dumbass. Hey, what's that sound?"

Dean didn't say anything. Charlie didn't say anything for a moment.

"Dean, that sound... don't tell me you're actually..." Charlie continued, scandalized.

"What? I'm just getting some water," Dean blatantly lied. Good thing he was finished.

"Must be a big glass of water..." Charlie replied, not sounding convinced. At all. Real smooth, Dean. Congrats.

"Hey Charlie it's important! How can I get him to sleep without a bottle of whiskey?"

"Sleeping pills?" Charlie suggested.

"No drugs!" Dean protested loudly.

"Wow Dean, easy!" Charlie replied, and sighed, "talking about shit usually helps. And... make sure he feels safe when going to sleep."

"That won't work," Dean sighed.

_Nothing can come through dreams. Not now anyway, since all angels are gone._

"There are herbal teas that help. Ask in a pharmacy."

Dean heard a tapping sound of nails on a table as Charlie was thinking for a moment. "Damnit, Jim, I'm a geek, not a doctor!"

Dean did actually get that last reference, and couldn't help grinning about his friend.

"Thanks, Charlie. I've gotta take care of stuff now."

"Anytime, Dean!" She said cheerily, "Make sure Sam gets better soon!"

Dean didn't bother to correct her. "I will. And Charlie?"

"Hm?"

"We've gotta do a Star Trek marathon with Cas sometime. Dude needs to catch up on stuff."

"I'm in so hard." Charlie said, and Dean could hear her grin.

"Take care, Dean!"

"You too, Charlie... bye."

Dean returned back to his room, where Cas was still sitting on the bed. Cas already looked better simply for the fact he could stay here, in Dean's room. Not alone in his own empty, impersonal room.

"You want some coffee?" Dean asked cheerfully. Cas looked up at him with a small smile. He still looked like a truck had rolled him over, but a smile at least.

"I would enjoy that."

Cas stood up a little to fast, and it went black before his eyes for a moment. Dean saw him sway and cursed under his breath.

"Okay, sit down and wait for a moment. I'm gonna fetch the coffee," Dean said.

Cas wanted to protest, but Dean shushed him before he got any words out. Defeated, Cas plopped back down on the bed.

Dean was back fast, holding two steaming cups of strong coffee. The smell alone was strong enough to wake up a mummy. Dean sat down next to Cas, disregarding personal space exactly like Cas always did.

Dean hadn't known it was so easy to make Cas happy until he saw him take a sip of black, strong, Winchester style coffee.

Cas smiled his tiny, private smile at him that meant so much more than the biggest grin of any other person. "Thank you, Dean," he said.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Cas eyes slowly began to drop. He didn't take another sip. He finally fell asleep, leaning on Dean.

Carefully, Dean opened Cas' lean fingers and removed the cup from them. He simply sat there for a while longer, listening to Cas' calm breathing and simply enjoying the warmth and friendship of the moment. He had to take care of Cas, like he had always done for Sammy. Cas needed him right now. So yeah, he'd been a little hard on the dude yesterday. But damn it, Cas was family.

* * *

**A/N**

Heya guys! Thanks a lot for the many super-awesome reviews I got last chapter! I love you guys! Wip title of this chapter: What a good night's sleep will do to you. Or the absense of it. Okay, that's too long to be a title. More of a mood theme for the chapter ;) I kinda tried something in this chapter, and I know it's probably dull but I liked the symmetry. Anyway, Thanks for your support and don't forget to be awesome! *HintHintReview*

And since this one review there's this particular picture that just won't leave my mind... If there is anybody at least remotely artistically talented in my readership, can you please draw Crowley as a Cat in shackles as he is in the dungeon? It would fulfill me in ways even I can't imagine. Please. It would be like the most awesome thing ever. Anyway, thanks again!


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